by Anne Barwell
Two steps and Cathal stopped. "I think it would be better if we went together," he decided. "I would like to see the painting, and I'm distracting you."
"Yes, you are." Tomas swallowed, falling into step next to Cathal, both of them climbing the next flight of stairs together. "That's not to say I'm not enjoying it, though."
"I'm enjoying it too." Cathal slid one arm around Tomas's waist, curving his fingers to sit on the waistband of Tomas's jeans. "You're rather distracting, yourself," he said softly.
Tomas blushed, feeling the warmth of Cathal's hand even through the thick material. "The painting is at the end of the hallway," he said, trying to convince his hormones to focus on the task at hand.
"Where the portrait used to hang," Cathal remembered. "You told me that earlier." He peered ahead, slowing as they drew close and coming to a complete stop just before reaching the wall upon which it hung. "Oh," he whispered, his mouth opening partly before he continued speaking. "I didn't realize it was this."
"You've seen it before?" Unlike the first time he'd seen it, it sat in semi-darkness; the door of the adjacent bedroom was closed and therefore wasn't allowing the light in from outside. "I did say that it was of the tree and the field." Cathal's reaction suggested that this was a painting with which he was already familiar.
"Not this exactly." Cathal took a step closer to it, taking him farther away from Tomas. He held out one hand, his fingers curved, then flattening before they dropped to his side, not quite touching the canvas. "I knew there was a sketch, but I hadn't seen the painting."
"Where did you see the sketch?" Alice's sketches were apparently difficult to find, and Eoin had said her family had most of them.
"It looks so different." Cathal kept staring at the painting. "It's like...." He made a choking noise. Tomas closed the distance between them instantly, putting his arms around Cathal, holding him tightly.
"It's like what, Cat?" he asked softly.
"Seeing a memory and knowing that's all that is left of it." Cathal closed his eyes for a moment. "This is a glimpse into a time that is long gone, isn't it?"
"Ninety years ago," Tomas reminded him, kissing the top of his head. "A lifetime ago."
Cathal stilled in his arms. "A lifetime apart," he whispered. "I couldn't do that. I don't want to do that."
"Cat?" Tomas gently turned Cathal so that they were facing, running one thumb down his cheek when there was no response. "What's wrong?"
"I don't want a lifetime alone, Tomas." Cathal searched Tomas's face, his expression intense, the look in his eyes wistful, scared, almost desperate.
"You won't." Tomas didn't know what else to say. Slowly, he brushed his lips against Cathal's and kissed him, showing him he meant what he said, that at least for the moment, neither of them were alone. A lifetime he couldn't do anything about, but for now he could at least do this.
Cathal returned the kiss, parting his lips to allow Tomas access, already tugging his T-shirt free of his jeans. Shifting his hands, Tomas slid them under Cathal's shirt, running them up and down his back, skin smooth under his fingers.
Letting out a low moan, Cathal caressed Tomas's buttocks through his jeans. Tomas took a step backward, taking Cathal with him, then another, stopping when he felt the wall against his back. His heart was thumping, hands roaming to explore whatever bare skin was within reach.
"Cat." Tomas whimpered into the kiss, pulling Cathal closer, molding their bodies together, heat spreading through him wherever they touched. Cathal broke the kiss and nibbled across Tomas's earlobe, repeating his earlier action.
"I want you," he murmured, fingers reaching for Tomas's belt.
Fuck! How did the laces on Cathal's trousers undo? Fumbling, Tomas whimpered again, his fingers not cooperating. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a stray thought pointed out that they were in plain view if anyone chose to wander in. He told it to shut up.
A wet tongue licked the outer shell of his ear, then trailed down Tomas's neck. He groaned loudly. God, he wanted Cathal, and now.
He redoubled his efforts to get the bloody laces undone, just as he felt his own belt come loose, followed by the top button of his jeans. "Cat...."
Cathal kissed him hard, their eyes meeting when they parted. Cathal's were darkened with need. "I want you, Tomas." He licked his lips. Tomas closed what little distance there was between them, sucking on Cathal's lower lip before sliding his tongue into the blond's mouth, the accursed laces finally coming free.
Footsteps sounded behind them. Tomas ignored them.
Someone coughed. Cathal groaned loudly, tugging at Tomas's jeans.
"Don't mind me," Donovan drawled. "I didn't realize you'd been making friends." Breaking the kiss with a snarl, Tomas turned his head in the direction of the interruption to see Donovan leaning against the opposite wall, arms folded, a smirk spreading across his face. "I don't suppose you're going to introduce us anytime soon?"
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Chapter Fifteen
A door slammed shut. Cathal jumped. Tomas pulled him closer, his arms encircling him protectively. Cathal molded his body into the embrace but turned his head to identify the intruder.
"Donovan!" Heidi called out. "How many times do I have to tell you to put your dirty dishes in the sink? Your mother does not live here!"
Donovan grinned, but there was a look in his eyes as he watched the way in which Cathal and Tomas interacted that Tomas couldn't quite put his finger on. "I'll be down in a minute, Heidi," he yelled in reply. Winking at Cathal, he paused for a split second before continuing. "We have a visitor I think you'll want to meet."
"Donovan," Tomas growled in warning. Damn it, this was turning into a day in which Cathal was meeting just about everyone.
"It's all right, Tomas," Cathal interjected softly, his voice still very breathy, his skin flushed. He kept holding onto Tomas tightly, their bodies pressed together, neither of them moving apart though Donovan was there. Whatever fabrics Cathal's clothes were made out of, they were very soft, and with the fastenings undone, Tomas was a little too aware of how aroused they both still were.
"You don't have to do this, Cat," Tomas whispered softly so that Donovan couldn't hear.
"We'll be downstairs in a few minutes," Cathal told Donovan. He didn't seem to want to let go of Tomas just yet, which was surprising. But then Tomas hadn't expected his own reaction, the need to protect Cathal overruling everything else.
"Sure." Donovan gave Cathal another glance, this time more obviously giving him the onceover, his lips smirking into what could have been approval. Tomas glared at him. Donovan's smirk grew wider. "Yeah, no worries. Just make sure you don't pass go and collect the two hundred, or it might not be me catching you next time."
"Smartarse," muttered Tomas, watching to make sure Donovan was very definitely gone before returning his attention to Cathal.
"What two hundred?" Cathal was staring after Donovan, frowning.
"Monopoly," Tomas explained, kissing the top of Cathal's head when he still looked puzzled. "It's a game."
"Oh." Cathal blushed again, looking somewhat sheepish. He extracted himself from Tomas's embrace, his fingers lingering as he refastened Tomas's belt for him. "I'm sorry. I should have realized he was there, but I was so focused on you and what we were doing, I...." His voice trailed off for a moment before he continued with a hint of annoyance. "Don't any of your friends understand the concept of privacy?"
"Mikey is not my friend," Tomas retorted testily, knowing full well that if they didn't make their way downstairs within a short period of time, Heidi would come looking for them, or worse still, send Donovan.
His eyes dropped to just below Cathal's waist, hands moving to redo the trouser laces but unsure as to how to proceed. He pulled the loose shirt up so he could see better, flushed skin meeting his eyes at the top of the exposed undergarment, which appeared to be some kind of off-white linen fastened with a drawstring underneath the
few laces he had actually managed to loosen.
Cathal followed his gaze, placing his hand over Tomas's to pull the laces from his fingers. "I think I need to do this. Touch me there and I can't promise I will stop this time." Tomas dropped his hand reluctantly, knowing Cathal was right. If they touched each other again there was little to no guarantee either of them would stop. One interruption in one day was bad luck, but two? It was a bloody conspiracy. Next time, he vowed, if there was one, he'd find somewhere more private with a door that, preferably, had a lock.
"I didn't want to," Tomas admitted. "Stop, that is." He watched Cathal redo the laces, fingers deftly moving, before pulling down his shirt again. Just how strong were those laces? Would they rip? Tomas cleared his throat loudly in an attempt to refocus his thoughts on anything but what they'd just been doing.
"Neither did I." Cathal looked Tomas up and down, his tongue moistening his lips before they curved into a slow smile. "You suit the slightly ruffled look, and you blush well."
So much for calm and composed. Tomas blushed again as if on cue. Glancing down, he hurriedly tucked in his T-shirt. "So do you," he replied, unable to stop the smug smirk when the comment elicited a similar response from Cathal.
"Tomas!" Heidi yelled. "I've made coffee!"
"It doesn't sound like it's a good idea to keep her waiting." Cathal winced. "Is she always this loud?" He glanced toward the stairs and then examined the floor at his feet. "Today is not going anything like I thought it would."
"Are you okay with this?" Tomas took Cathal's hand in his to lead him downstairs.
Cathal nodded. "It's something I should have done a long time ago." They reached the top of the stairway. Cathal stopped, pulled Tomas closer, and kissed him briefly, enough for the reassurance of touch but not lingering as to deliberately arouse. "Thank you," he whispered.
"You've done this, not me," Tomas reminded him, unable to stop the smile crossing his lips.
"I'm not doing it alone." Cathal began walking down the stairs slowly. Tomas's smile turned to a frown. This wasn't exactly the type of thing he did regularly either. While he did have a few friends, enough at least to not-quite-count on the fingers of one hand, he did not socialize as a rule and certainly had never had someone to introduce in this kind of situation. This was as unfamiliar to him as it probably was to Cathal.
Cathal stopped a couple of steps down, waiting, and Tomas hurried to catch up. At Cathal's questioning look, Tomas shrugged. "I was just thinking that I'm pleased you're here with me."
"So am I." They took the rest of the stairs together, hands entwined. "I think," Cathal continued slowly, "that it's time I stopped just observing people through windows and started to live again." He sighed, glancing down at his wrist. "Although in saying that, there are still limits to what I can do."
What was it with that bracelet? Wishing that he could remember if Cathal had worn it the first few times they'd met, Tomas added it to the growing list of questions to ask. The library might be worth investigating again if Cathal continued not to be forthcoming with information. The room of rare books probably had some reference books stashed in it too. "Limits can be pushed," Tomas said firmly, "providing you have the information you need to know how to do so," Cathal's head came up sharply, "safely."
"No!" Cathal's tone softened when Tomas opened his mouth to question the reaction. "Not now, Tomas. Please. I can't. One step at a time is enough."
"You wanted to start living," Tomas pointed out.
"I am." Cathal squeezed Tomas's hand. "More than I have in a very long time."
The kitchen door opened. "There you are!" Heidi gestured toward the table inside. On it was a pot of coffee and several large plates of savories and scones. This was not going to be a short visit; it had all the signs of an interrogation, the food being a mere disguise for that fact. Donovan leaned back on his chair, the smirk still firmly in place. Tomas wondered just how much Heidi had already been told.
Heidi's gaze dropped to their joined hands, and she gave Tomas a disapproving look. "An introduction before now would have been nice, Tomas," she exclaimed. "Or did you just arrive this afternoon, Mr....?" she asked Cathal.
"Cathal." There was the barest of hesitations before Cathal answered, although it was doubtful that anyone but Tomas had noticed. He let go of Tomas's hand and held it out to her. "You must be Heidi. I've heard a lot about you."
She shook the hand, smiling. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Cathal." She ushered them into the kitchen. "Is there a last name that goes with that?"
"My friends call me Cat," Cathal replied, neatly sidestepping the question. He waited for Tomas to sit and then settled on the chair next to him. A faint blush spread over his cheeks. "I'm sorry I didn't introduce myself earlier." He paused. "And you would be Donovan?"
"Yeah, that's me." Donovan grinned and held out his hand. "Donovan Campbell, at your service." He managed a mock-bow in the form of an over-exaggerated nod from across the table when they shook hands.
Heidi rolled her eyes. "I swear sometimes he thinks he's a character from some of those books he reads." Donovan snorted but didn't correct her. She smiled at Cathal. "You're the first friend of Tomas's we've met. I would have had a decent afternoon tea prepared if he'd told us you would be visiting." Cathal's eyes widened at the amount of food in front of them. "How long have you known each other?"
"A while," Cathal answered. Tomas quickly grabbed the plate of mini quiches from across the table and shoved them in Cathal's direction, much to Donovan's amusement. The plate connected with one of the coffee cups, knocking it over, the dark liquid spreading across the embroidered tablecloth Heidi had carefully arranged while they'd been upstairs.
Quickly snatching up a nearby tea towel, she began mopping up the mess, a look of annoyance crossing her features. Tomas flushed with embarrassment, muttered an apology under his breath, and tried to ignore Donovan's smirk.
Cathal was on his feet immediately. "Is there anything I can do to help?" he asked, his concern evident both in his tone and in his expression.
"It's fine, but thanks for the offer." Heidi glared at the brown stain in the middle of her cream-colored cloth, marched over to the sink, filled it with cold water, and threw the tea towel into it. Walking back to the table, she eyed the cloth again. "No, it's going to have to go," she decided, ordering them to pick up a cup and a plate each while she reorganized the table and removed the cloth, whipping it into the sink with the tea towel to soak. Sitting down, she gestured for him to do the same, muttering something about someone soaking dirty socks in her laundry tub. "I'll pour you some more coffee, shall I? As it was your coffee Tomas spilt." Donovan's smirk faded when her attention turned to him. "And you didn't even have the decency to offer him one of the savories!"
Donovan picked up a plate of potato top savory pastries and gestured to Cathal to take one. "I just hadn't gotten that far, okay?" he told Heidi indignantly. "And before you ask, there's no point asking Tomas if he wants one. They're pastry."
"Thank you," Cathal said politely to both of them, helping himself to a savory. "What's wrong with pastry?"
"They're pies." Donovan grinned.
"Nasty, horrible things," Tomas confirmed, determined not to let Donovan use this situation to try to persuade him to change his mind.
"I like them," Cathal said mildly, taking a bite, "and this is very nice."
Heidi beamed. "Thank you. I make them myself." She pushed the plate of scones over. "Please, try anything you'd like. There's plenty." He nodded, his mouth full, chewing slowly. "You're quite welcome to stay for dinner as well, and if you need somewhere to stay, we have plenty of room."
Swallowing, Cathal shook his head. "That's very kind, but I need to be on my way soon." He picked up his coffee, inhaled appreciatively, and took a long drink, savoring the taste. "This coffee is wonderful," he said, "especially when it is freshly made."
"Oh." Heidi seemed disappointed. "Will you be visiting again, o
r is this just a day trip to see Tomas?"
"I'll try and visit again," Cathal promised. He seemed to have lost his nervousness and was enjoying the conversation. His left hand dropped below the table to rest lightly on Tomas's knee. "I told Mikey I'd help him to build a skateboard ramp tomorrow. Tomas and I are doing it together."
Donovan stared at Tomas. "You're helping Mikey with the ramp?" He shook his head. "He's been trying to get Edward to do that for ages, but he can't leave the post office or shop unattended. Hmmm...."
"Hmmm?" Tomas asked, unable to hide the suspicious edge in his voice. In his experience, that sound and a pause after it generally did not bode well.
"I would have offered to help the kid myself, but I'm working to a deadline." He glanced at Heidi when she cleared her throat. "I've got some timber, though, and some other stuff you could use. I can grab it for you when you're ready, if you need it."
"Mikey didn't say anything about having any of the materials," Tomas realized, wondering what kind of project Donovan was working on. Did the inn make enough to cover their costs? The guestbook had seemed rather sparse in the way of entries for the last few months. "We just organized a place and time."
"The offer is appreciated, thank you, Donovan," Cathal added quickly. His fingers brushed against Tomas's knee. "I have no idea how to build one, but I do have some skill with wood." He gave Tomas a grin. "I expect Tomas knows what he is doing, or otherwise he would not have offered."
Tomas bit back a snort. He hadn't bloody offered. "I wouldn't worry about that," he muttered. "I'm sure Mikey knows exactly what he wants and won't hesitate to let us know." Though he had a fair idea how to put one together, he wasn't about to tell Mikey that straight off. Let the kid stew a bit first. It would serve him right.
"Skill with wood?" Donovan perked up, although his tone was casual. "Handyman or more serious?"
"I've had no formal tuition," Cathal admitted, blushing slightly. "My cousin taught me how to use a penknife one winter when the weather prevented us from going very far. It helped to pass time in front of the fire when I ran out of books to read." He smiled at the memory. "He said it was either that or his sanity; we were snowed in for several days, and he was very restless."
