The Quality of Mercy

by Ari McKay

  The more he thought about it, the more grateful he was to Gil for insisting that he move into the foreman’s house. Perhaps proximity would work in his favor, and he would be able to prove he was worthy of Jules’s heart in ways he hadn’t been ten years ago. Perhaps he could prove he had grown up enough to love as a steadfast man rather than a frightened boy.

  His heart was light with hope, prompting him to whistle as he packed, and he was still whistling when he returned to the foreman’s house. He dropped his bags in the parlor and went to Jules’s bedroom to check on him.

  “That didn’t take long,” Gil said as he rose to his feet.

  “I have not accumulated much over the years, although I plan to change that now that I have found a home here,” Carlos replied, looking pointedly at Jules. “I have already begun planting my roots.”

  Jules’s eyes widened, and then he glanced away. “Mercy seems like a good place to do it,” he replied. “Gil was just telling me how warm and welcoming the town was to him and how happy he is to have found a home here.”

  “That has been my experience,” Carlos replied. “I hope it will be yours too.”

  Jules nodded, though he seemed uncertain. There was a frown line between his eyes that Carlos remembered as being a sign of Jules either being in pain or feeling overtaxed. “I suppose anything along those lines will have to wait until I can get around on my own again.”

  “For now you should rest,” Carlos said firmly.

  Gil patted Jules’s shoulder before moving toward the door. “Please don’t hesitate to let me know if you need anything. I’ll bring some books the next time I visit, perhaps some Virgil or Shakespeare. I have some more recent popular works as well. Just let Carlos know your preferences.”

  With that, Gil made a swift exit, and Carlos stood next to Jules’s bed, wishing he could climb in and hold Jules until that little frown line disappeared.

  “Can I get you anything?” he asked. “More water? Or perhaps something to eat?”

  Jules shook his head, then looked at Carlos pensively. “Actually, I would appreciate some help to the bathroom,” he said, his tone diffident. “If that isn’t too much trouble?”

  “Not at all.”

  Rather than help Jules to his feet, Carlos bent and gathered Jules up in his arms, holding him close. It wasn’t strictly necessary, but he wanted to feel the weight and warmth of Jules’s body in his arms again, and he hoped to remind Jules of how good it felt to be touched and held. Jules drew in a sharp breath, but he wrapped his arms around Carlos’s neck, holding on tightly.

  “I’m too heavy for you,” Jules protested. “Carlos, you don’t have to carry me about!”

  The weight of the cast did make Jules heavier in Carlos’s arms, but not enough to cause any strain. “You are not too heavy,” Carlos replied as he carried Jules out of the bedroom and over to the water closet. The foreman’s house, like the big house, had indoor plumbing, which meant neither of them would have to make do with a chamber pot or outhouse while they lived there.

  He set Jules on his feet, careful not to bump the cast on the wall or doorframe, and wrapped both arms around Jules’s waist from behind so Jules wouldn’t have to put any weight on his injured leg.

  “Lean on me,” he said. “I will keep you upright.”

  Jules glanced back at Carlos, his blue eyes wide over the pink of his cheeks. “I can lean against the wall. Really.”

  “I saw how much it hurt to put weight on your leg,” Carlos said. “This way, you will not have to, and I am hardly a stranger who has never seen you in a state of undress.”

  Jules’s blush deepened, but he sighed and lifted his nightshirt. When he was done, he pulled the flush chain, then gestured to the sink. “I’d like to wash my hands, please.”

  The room was too small for Carlos to scoop Jules up again, but the sink was only a few steps away, so he tightened his arms around Jules and walked him over to it. He’d kept his gaze fixed on the opposite wall out of respect for Jules’s discomfort, but he couldn’t ignore the feel of Jules’s firm ass snugged against him or the lean lines of Jules’s body in his arms. He longed to bend his head and press kisses to Jules’s neck as he had done so many times before, but he didn’t dare. Not yet.

  Jules washed his hands and then reached for the towel hanging next to the sink to dry them. “Thank you,” he murmured, and for a moment, he leaned against Carlos, as though relaxing into Carlos’s embrace. “Would it be too much of an imposition for me to sit up in a chair for a while? But if you’d rather help me back into bed, that’s fine too. That way you don’t have to stay with me if you’d rather do something else.”

  “It is no imposition,” Carlos replied, giving Jules a reassuring squeeze. “There is a comfortable chair with an ottoman by the fireplace in the parlor. You can prop your leg up, and I will bring you a book or some tea. Whatever you like.”

  The look Jules gave him was almost shy. “I’d like that. Thank you,” he murmured. “Should I try to walk there with your help?”

  It probably wouldn’t hurt to let Jules walk, but Carlos didn’t want to. Dr. Carruthers would be bringing crutches for Jules soon enough, and then Carlos wouldn’t have any excuse to hold Jules.

  “Perhaps in a day or two,” he said as he walked Jules backward out of the water closet. “For now, you should conserve your strength.”

  “I do feel weaker than I would expect from just a broken leg,” Jules said, sounding resigned. “Perhaps it’s a side effect of the laudanum.”

  “Perhaps, but a broken bone is not a minor injury.” Once they were out of the water closet, Carlos scooped Jules up again and carried him to the parlor. “The bones take weeks to mend. If it is not set properly, it could lead to a permanent limp or weakness in the limb or even amputation.”

  “I had an uncle who had lost a leg at sea,” Jules said. “They replaced it with a wooden peg leg, but he was in almost constant pain for the rest of his life.”

  “Which is why we must take care with your leg.” Carlos lowered Jules into the overstuffed chair by the fireplace, then dragged the ottoman closer and rested Jules’s leg on it. “Are you comfortable? If you are chilled, I could light the fireplace or fetch a blanket.”

  “A fire would be nice,” Jules said. “If it isn’t too much trouble, of course.” He glanced toward the fireplace, where a soft rug was spread, then looked away quickly, a blush rising again in his cheeks.

  Carlos thought he had a good idea of what was going on in Jules’s mind. He remembered all the times they had made love on the rug in front of Jules’s fireplace. Indeed, there were few horizontal surfaces in Jules’s house that had not been put to amorous use.

  He hooked his fingers beneath Jules’s chin and coaxed Jules into looking at him. “It is not too much trouble,” he said softly, holding Jules’s gaze. “Nothing you want or need is too much trouble. I want to be here with you. I want to take care of you. This is my choice. Do you understand?”

  Jules gazed up at him somberly, and Carlos had no trouble seeing the combination of longing and fear in his eyes. He was silent for a long moment, but then he nodded hesitantly. “I understand,” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

  It took every ounce of willpower Carlos possessed not to capture Jules’s lips and try to kiss away all of Jules’s doubts and fears. But pushing too hard or too quickly would make Jules run from him, figuratively even if he couldn’t do so literally. For now, Jules was accepting Carlos’s help, and that would have to be enough.

  “Good.” Carlos brushed Jules’s jaw lightly with his thumb before standing up straight. “I will light the fire, and then you may tell me how else I may see to your comfort. Just think of me as your willing servant,” he added in a lighter tone, teasing Jules a little.

  “You’re no servant!” Jules drew in a breath, appearing to brace himself. “I always wondered if what drove you away was that you felt I didn’t treat you as an equal.”

  Carlos sat on the edge of the
ottoman, wanting to put himself on Jules’s level for this conversation. Obviously Jules still felt he had done or said something wrong all those years ago, and Carlos wanted to erase any doubts Jules was harboring about why he’d left.

  “What drove me away was my own immaturity and stupidity,” he replied, meeting Jules’s gaze. “You did nothing wrong. I never felt any inequality between us despite the difference in our ages or the color of my skin. You treated me with respect, and I felt like a man in your arms. Unfortunately, I did not act like a man outside of them.”

  “I kept wondering what I had done wrong to drive you into someone else’s arms,” Jules said. “But I was selfish too. There were signs that you were unhappy, that you were growing away from me. I just didn’t want to see them. Maybe if I’d talked to you, if I’d asked you why, if I’d paid more attention… maybe it wouldn’t have turned out as it did.”

  Carlos clasped Jules’s hands and squeezed them tightly in hopes the touch would help Jules accept Carlos’s explanation.

  “There was nothing you could have done, querido,” he said, the endearment slipping out as naturally as breathing. “I was afraid of committing to one man and of being tied down to one place. I was not ready, and there is nothing you could have said or done to make me ready. I was a boy who thought greener pastures awaited elsewhere, but I was wrong.”

  Jules swallowed hard, and there was a glint of tears in his eyes before he looked away. His hands were cold, and his fingers trembled in Carlos’s grasp, although he didn’t try to pull away.

  “I felt torn apart,” he admitted. “It hurt so much, and nothing could ease it. I was rather out of my mind for a while, to be honest. I gained more sympathy and understanding for men like Poe and Coleridge, who turned to opium or alcohol to ease their pain.”

  The knowledge tore at Carlos’s heart, and a fresh swell of remorse overwhelmed him as he clung to Jules’s hands. “I am sorry—so desperately sorry—for the pain I caused you. Perhaps I do not deserve a second chance, but I want nothing more than to heal the wounds I inflicted on your heart and give you a reason to feel happy again.”

  Jules drew in a deep breath, then met Carlos’s eyes once more. “I told you I forgave you, and I meant it—and I’m not trying to make you feel guiltier than you obviously do. It was hard at first, yes, but I did find some happiness eventually. My wife… you would have liked her. She was a warm and generous woman who had been sorely used by a man who didn’t deserve her, and I could not love Al more if he were truly my son. Perhaps I need to move beyond what happened and look at it from that perspective. Had you not left me, Mary would have died fearing for the welfare of her son, and I do believe I have made a positive difference in his life. Knowing it wasn’t something I did that drove you away helps too. So maybe things worked out as they were meant to. If I think of it that way, I believe I can finally let it all go.”

  “I hope you can indeed let go of the past and look to the future. I would like to be part of that future, but more than that, I want you to be happy.” Carlos looked down at their joined hands and gave Jules’s fingers another gentle squeeze. “I wrote to you once. A few years had passed, and I had grown up enough to realize that in my haste to run away, I had left my heart behind, still in your keeping. But the letter was returned to me. At the time, I considered it a great loss, but perhaps now is the best time for us to meet again and here is the best place because I can see myself calling Bent Oak home for the remainder of my days.”

  Jules looked surprised. “You wrote to me?” he echoed, then shook his head. “For a few years I had hoped to get a letter or to hear something of you. But perhaps you’re right. It was best the letter didn’t reach me. It would have done nothing save open the scabs on my heart and take my focus away from the family that needed me.” He fell silent, also looking at their hands, Jules’s fingers pale against Carlos’s. “Seeing you again was a painful shock, but I do believe I’m moving past it. But the future… that’s more difficult, Carlos. You are still a young man, and my life is more than half-over. Perhaps what you think is love is only guilt for having hurt me. I’m a different man now, and so are you. Who’s to say that in a year, you won’t decide you’ve made a terrible mistake trying to recapture something that died a decade ago?”

  “I know the difference between love and guilt. If I felt only guilt, I would apologize and attempt to make amends.” Carlos weighed his next words carefully. Saying what he wanted to say was a risk that could make Jules push him away, but it might also remind Jules that he was hardly in his dotage. Carlos wanted to reignite that spark even if Jules decided to let another man fan the flame.

  “It is not guilt that makes me yearn to take care of you and bring light back into your eyes,” he said at last. “It is not guilt that makes my heart joyful merely from being with you. It is not guilt,” he added, lowering his voice to a sultry growl, “that makes me want to map your body with my hands and lips. I long to hear the needy sounds you make when I am buried deep within you.”

  Jules was staring at him, his eyes dark with need, his lips parted as his breath caught. Carlos remembered that look from the first time he’d seduced Jules, how Jules had leaned toward Carlos just as he was doing now. Jules’s fingers tightened on his, and he looked as if he wanted to throw himself into Carlos’s arms and beg Carlos to take him.

  Then the front door opened and the sound of boots rang on the hardwood of the foyer. Jules gasped and yanked his hands free of Carlos’s grasp.

  “Pa, you’re up!” Al’s voice was full of surprised happiness, and he grinned as he came into the room. “I’m glad to see you’re finally out of bed!”

  Carlos mustered a smile for Al, although he wanted to growl with frustration over the untimely interruption. He’d finally made some progress with Jules, and he hoped Jules wouldn’t retreat and shore up his defenses even more once he’d had time to think about what had almost happened.

  “Yes, I decided it was time to stop lollygagging,” Jules replied, looking at his stepson with a smile of his own. To Carlos, it looked a bit strained, but the affection in Jules’s voice was real.

  “Carlos and I have been really worried,” Al added, and he gave Carlos a friendly nudge as he dropped his hat onto the sofa table. “I owe Carlos more than I can repay for saving you, you know. I’m not ready to be an orphan.”

  “Jules’s condition is much improved, but he will still need our help,” Carlos said, turning his attention to Al. His irritation over the interruption faded at seeing Al’s genuine relief and affection for Jules, and he was glad Jules had been given a chance to be a father. “I was about to light a fire. Why don’t you do that? I will make some tea and bring Jules a book or two. Perhaps you could read to him later.”

  “All right.” Al nodded. “Although usually Pa is the one who reads out loud. He’s got a great voice for it, doesn’t he?”

  “He does indeed. I have always enjoyed listening to him read poetry,” Carlos replied, thinking about all the times Jules had read naughty poems to him as they lay naked in bed. But that wasn’t doing his thwarted desires any good, and so he stood up, turning his thoughts to more mundane topics to help cool his ardor before Al could notice. “Do you still take your tea with sugar?” he asked, resting his hand briefly on Jules’s shoulder.

  “Yes. Two spoonsful,” Jules replied. He looked up at Carlos briefly before glancing away, but not quickly enough for Carlos to miss the heat in his gaze. “Thank you. I would be more than happy to read to both of you, if you’d like.”

  “That would be great!” Al was already kneeling at the fireplace, laying the kindling. “Oh, and I saw Mr. Grayson on my way in. He said I was to fetch our supper from the big house for the next few days at least. He told the cook to prepare enough for all of us.”

  “I will be certain to thank him the next time I see him.” Carlos was relieved to have that burden lifted. He’d been eating with the hands while Jules was unconscious, but he didn’t want to leave now that Jules wa
s awake.

  They would be able to take their meals together, almost like they were a family. That thought made Carlos smile as he prepared Jules’s tea. If he had remained with Jules, would they have found a refuge like Bent Oak? Would they have taken in an orphan like Al? Parenthood wasn’t really an option for a cowboy on the move, but he was settled now, and he and Jules were both still young enough to be parents.

  If Jules took him back, he reminded himself. Jules still wanted him—that was plain to see—but desire wasn’t enough. They needed to rebuild trust as well, and Carlos suspected he still had a long way to go.

  Chapter Ten

  “THERE, HOW’S that?”

  Jules shifted in the chair Al had lowered him into and adjusted his cast on the footstool before settling back. He smiled gratefully up at his stepson. “Perfect, thanks,” he replied, then chuckled as Al covered his lap with a small quilt. “Really, Al, you don’t have to fuss. I’m fine.”

  “Do you want anything else? Some tea, maybe?” Al grinned, not taking any notice of Jules’s admonition. “I don’t mind, really. You’ve taken care of me for most of my life, Pa. It feels good to give a bit of that back.”

  Jules smiled as he waved one hand. “You’re my son, Al. It was my privilege to care for you.” He meant the words sincerely, but he also felt a twinge of conscience. For the past two days, he’d asked Al to help him with everything, especially with trips to the bathroom and with the sponge. He’d used Al as a buffer to keep himself safe after the way he’d been almost on the verge of surrendering to the lure of being in Carlos’s arms once again.

  “I know, and I appreciate that,” Al said, then patted Jules’s hand. “I’ll be right back with that tea.”

  “Thank you.” Jules settled back with a sigh, feeling another surge of affection for Al. “He’s a wonderful young man, Mary,” he murmured. “I hope you’d be pleased.”