A Gathering Storm (Porthkennack Book 2)

by Joanna Chambers

  “Such as, I love you,” Ward said. “And I want to share my life with you. Fully.” He stared into Nick’s eyes, his gaze growing a little wary, a little careful. “What about you, Nicholas? Do you want that too? Really want it, I mean?”

  The edge loomed, terrifyingly high, but Nick didn’t hesitate. He didn’t know what was on the other side, but he ran towards it full tilt.

  “I really do,” he told Ward, and leaned forward to seal that assurance with another kiss.

  And they soared over the edge of the zawn together.

  5th October 1853

  Mr. Godolphin leaned over his desk and poured Nick a large glass of sherry.

  “It’s a decent bargain you’ve struck, Mr. Hearn,” he said as he filled his own glass, “but it’s important that you’re absolutely clear on what you’re signing up to.”

  He proceeded to explain the deed that lay on the desk in front of Nick, line by line. Nick tried to listen, or at least give the appearance of listening. The content of the deed did not actually matter, but its existence did, and Nick had to demonstrate a credible degree of interest.

  “The lease of your land is for a lengthy period, true,” the lawyer was saying now, “but in return, you get the benefit of Sir Edward’s capital to do all the land improvements that are needed and to get the farm buildings constructed. Now”—he wagged a finger at Nick—“you have to understand that the majority of the costs that relate to your part of the land will be set off against the rent Sir Edward owes you, so you won’t see much benefit for the first few years, but those costs will be increasing the capital value of your land, and Sir Edward will bear the costs of improving his own land himself. And I did manage to persuade Sir Edward to let you take a small proportion of the rent each quarter along with the salary he’s paying you as his steward.”

  Mr. Godolphin pointed at the relevant clause that recorded this, and Nick bent his head, pretending to read, even as he worked to suppress his smile. In truth, none of the financial arrangements mattered to him or Ward, but to Ward’s consternation, Nick had insisted the bargain must not appear too suspiciously advantageous to him. When Mr. Godolphin had made his suggestion regarding Nick receiving some of the rent from the outset, Ward had been only too happy to agree.

  “I appreciate your efforts, Mr. Godolphin,” Nick said, the pen twitching in his hand. “I’m more than happy with the terms you’ve achieved for me.”

  “Well, it’s the best you’ll get considering Mr. Roscarrock saw fit to leave you a great swathe of empty, unused land and not so much as a brass penny to enable you to actually do anything with it.” He shrugged. “In short, it’s this or sell it for a fraction of what it will be worth in ten years.”

  Nick chuckled. “That’s old Godfrey for you. Not that I’m shedding any tears—it’s not as though I expected anything from him at all, and this arrangement suits me well enough. At least Sir Edward wants to leave the management of the land entirely to me. He’s too busy with his own work to second-guess every decision I make the way the old man used to.”

  Mr. Godolphin laughed at that. “Oh, I can assure you, Mr. Roscarrock was equally critical of my work, Mr. Hearn. There was no deed I ever drafted for him he could not improve upon himself.”

  They shared a grin, then Nick pulled the deed towards him and signed it with a flourish before turning the paper round so the lawyer could add his own signature as witness.

  Finally, it was done.

  “I’d better be getting back,” Nick said, rising from his chair and offering his hand. “I’ve a deal to do today. But thank you for all your efforts and advice, Mr. Godolphin.”

  The lawyer rose and shook his hand, and they strolled to the door of his office.

  Mr. Godolphin paused there, his hand on the doorknob. “Incidentally, I heard you had to give your cottage up.”

  Cousin Harry had proven to be unexpectedly churlish about the legacy Nicholas had received. Within two days of Harry’s arrival in Porthkennack after Godfrey’s death, an eviction notice had been pinned on the front door of Nick’s childhood home.

  “Apparently it’s the Roscarrocks’ steward’s cottage,” Nick said, shrugging. “Goes with the position, or so I’ve been told.”

  Mr. Godolphin tutted. “What nonsense! Your mother lived there for years, and no steward ever occupied it before that. In fact, the steward before you, Mr. Lang, lived at Roscarrock House itself.” He gave Nick a long look. “If you wish, I’ll take it up with Mr. Roscarrock. I’m quite sure this is not what Godfrey would have intended.”

  Nick was touched by that offer. Harry Roscarrock was the most powerful man round these parts now—apart from Ward, of course—and was not to be crossed lightly. And Mr. Godolphin wasn’t to know that the eviction notice had actually been rather serendipitous, creating an urgent need for Nicholas to find new accommodation.

  “That’s kind of you, but I’ve already decided to let it pass,” Nick said. “For one thing, I’d already given up my position and the cottage just before Godfrey’s death, as I’d planned to leave Porthkennack. More importantly though, Sir Edward’s given me accommodation at Varhak Manor.” He grinned. “Now I know why Mr. Lang liked living at Roscarrock House so well. My laundry’s done without me even having to ask, and Mrs. Waddell’s cooking is delicious. The next time you see me, I’ll be twice the size I am now.”

  Mr. Godolphin chuckled. “Ah, well then, perhaps it is for the best. We working men need our home comforts, do we not?”

  Ward spent the morning reviewing the first set of daily logs he’d received from his weather observers and plotting the information on his weather map. He was becoming increasingly convinced that, given enough time, miles, and data, not to mention a reliable means of swift long-distance communication, it would be possible to predict the weather far enough ahead that it might actually make a difference—might actually save lives.

  His main difficulty at the moment was getting the evidence to analyse, but he’d made arrangements to have daily weather logs prepared by a handful of people located throughout Cornwall. Within a few months, he hoped to have enough information to begin carrying out some early analysis to test some of his theories on weather systems.

  As for long-distance communication, it was coming. There was already talk of laying a telegraph cable all the way across the ocean to the Americas. Just the thought of that was dizzying. If weather information could be telegraphed from places as far away as that within the next few years, who knew what might be possible?

  A soft knock at the study door had him looking up. A moment later, Nicholas slipped inside. He was windblown and grinning.

  “Well,” he said, closing the door behind him and leaning back against it, “it’s official.”

  Ward slid out from behind the desk and walked towards him. “You signed the lease?”

  “I did,” Nicholas confirmed, “I am now your landlord.”

  “Good heavens,” Ward said, “I shall have to keep you happy if I am not to be evicted.” He took hold of the lapels of Nicholas’s coat and leaned close, laying a kiss on his warm, curving mouth.

  When they broke apart, Nicholas grinned and said, “You don’t really need to worry about that since I am also officially your servant now. Which of course makes you my master.” He quirked a brow at the last word.

  “Well,” Ward husked. “I must say, I did not feel like your master this morning.”

  Far from it. On his hands and knees and begging for Nicholas’s cock while Nicholas teased him slowly, mercilessly.

  Nicholas laughed softly.

  “Honestly though, do you mind?” Ward asked, watching Nicholas anxiously. “Being my servant in the eyes of the world?”

  They’d been over this before, but it still worried Ward. He remembered Nicholas’s bitter words, that night in Truro.

  “In your eyes, you are the master and I am the servant . . .”

  Nicholas shook his head, his gaze soft and warm with affection. “It doesn’t matter to m
e what the world thinks we are—landlord or tenant, master or servant—all I care about is what we are to each other. And we know that now, don’t we?”

  Ward swallowed against the lump of emotion that swelled in his throat. “Yes,” he whispered. “You own my heart, Nicholas. And there’s nothing to be done about it.”

  “Nothing except thank God for it,” Nicholas murmured, leaning in close to whisper in Ward’s ear. “And for you. My lover, my friend, my soul mate, my helpmeet . . .”

  Ward’s mouth curved. “The keeper of your heart?”

  “That too.” Nicholas agreed, trailing kisses towards his mouth, the nibbling caress of Nicholas’s lips making Ward shiver and shift as he wound his arms round Nicholas’s neck.

  “Forever?” Ward pressed, shamelessly.

  Their lips were just touching now, and Nicholas’s breath was warm against Ward’s lips. “Such a demanding fellow,” he murmured. “Forever and always—will that suffice?”

  “I suppose it will have to do,” Ward whispered, and captured Nicholas’s lips again.

  Explore more of the Porthkennack universe: riptidepublishing.com/titles/universe/porthkennack

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  Thanks go to the very helpful Elizabeth Tabary-Collins for her invaluable input on the main hypnosis scene in the book. Any errors are of course my own.

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  Joanna Chambers always wanted to write. In between studying, finding a proper grown-up job, getting married, and having kids, she spent many hours staring at blank sheets of paper and chewing pens. That changed when she rediscovered her love of romance and found her muse. Joanna’s muse likes red wine and coffee and won’t let Joanna clean the house or watch television.

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