Locryn blinked, his gaze filled with affection. Affection for Porthavel, Jake wondered, or— No. For Cornwall.
“Whenever I’ve been away, all I’ve wanted is to come home. And when I do I shut myself in the bakehouse and I just bake. No amount of money could be better than being here. It’s home.” He took a sip of tea. “Have you heard of the Royal Cornish hotel chain?”
“Yeah, I’ve stayed in some!” Jake chuckled “Don’t tell me, they wanted to poach you to bake their breakfast pastries?”
“You know it started out as a little B and B here in Porthavel, don’t you? The pale blue house up on the clifftop.”
“Did it? Fuck me, I had no idea!”
“My mum and dad owned it. They own Royal Cornish.” Bloody hell. That wasn’t just money. It was money. “They’re worth more money than I can even imagine, but all the lovely personality in that little blue house? Gone. Some people would say they’ve really made it but I’m not so sure. Bigger isn’t always better.”
“Your parents? That’s—” What the actual fuck. “You’re right. I mean, those hotels are Cornish in name, but they don’t feel Cornish. Not as Cornish as your cottage, or the café or even Captain Cod and his fiberglass fucking fish.”
“Didn’t you know?” Locryn laughed. “Dad thought I should have my head examined when I turned down the US job. He’d love to turn Locryn’s into a franchise.”
“I bet he would!” Jake shook his head, still amazed. “Royal fucking Cornish Hotels, though? And all from a B and B in Porthavel. Fuck me.”
“Not much room for little boys when one’s building a hotel dynasty,” Locryn said with a shrug. “When I was nine Mum and Dad took me to look at a boarding school and promised if I didn’t like it, I wouldn’t have to go there. Except when we arrived, they told me I was staying. And my day trip turned into what felt like a prison sentence. Can you believe that, darling? It’s almost comical!”
Jake’s eyes widened with horror. “That’s—that’s appalling.” And there, Jake saw, was the reason—or at least part of it—for Locryn never mentioning his parents. “That’s cruel. And you were only nine?”
“Character building, if you ask my father.” He shook his head and gave a long sigh. “They were off around the world, opening hotels, making money. I spent holidays here with the gramps and that’s how things were for a couple of years until at the grand old age of eleven, I ran away down here and decided to live as a hermit in my cave. With occasional trips up for cake and lemonade from Gran, of course!”
“And your grandparents were in on it? Brilliant!” Jake laughed, hugging Locryn. At least there were people in his family who had looked after him.
“They were my saviors really, because I was so terribly unhappy.” He snuggled close to Jake. “There’s an excellent school about an hour from here, just expensive enough to keep Dad happy and no need to board. The gramps said I could live here but it was up to Mum and Dad. It took a while to convince them, but they said yes after a few tantrums. And I know you’re probably thinking that I had a terribly unsettled childhood, but once I came home, it was terrific. And I’ve lived here ever since.”
Jake nuzzled Locryn’s cheek. “I’m glad you found a home. I’m glad you found somewhere you were wanted and loved. Where you were happy.”
“Maybe I was a mermaid in another life,” he said with a smile. “My folks and I get on fine nowadays, because life’s far too short for grudges. Dad had a heart scare a few years ago and I think it gave him a bit of a jolt. It was his perhaps money isn’t everything moment. And it’s another reason that I don’t want to think of you being stressed.”
Jake linked his fingers with Locryn’s and held them over his heart. “I’m glad I came to Porthavel. I wasn’t at first, but… I needed to chill, didn’t I?”
“You were all coiled up like a spring, darling.” He lifted their joined hands and kissed Jake’s palm. “And I know I was priggish and twee, but I felt abandoned by them. I’ve made a little nest here, and I was just waiting for you to turn on your cameras and start destroying Porthavel.”
Jake shook his head. “I would never have done that. Never. But it’s okay. I can see why you were being protective. It’s your haven, and who’d want some sweary git and his camera crew to turn up and wreck it?”
“But you didn’t. You turned up and completed it.”
“Completed it?” Jake blinked in surprise. “How the bollocks did I manage that?”
In reply Locryn lifted his head from Jake’s shoulder and kissed him. It was the softest kiss he’d ever known, Locryn’s lips as warm as the campfire. Jake kissed him in return, as softly as he could bear. A tenderness was all around him which he’d felt before.
The story Locryn had shared was the last piece in the jigsaw, completing the picture of the man who loved his sanctuary, who needed nothing more than home and hearth and the wild coast of Cornwall. And now Jake needed him, and from Locryn’s kiss he knew it was mutual.
Jake deepened their kiss and began to unwind Locryn’s scarf from around his neck. For a moment, he wondered if the smugglers had ever had afternoon tea down here with a man they were falling for. Maybe so—who could say otherwise?
Locryn rested his forehead against Jake’s, letting the kiss turn into a slow smooch. As their lips finally parted he whispered, “I’ve fallen in love with you, Captain Jake.”
“Oh, Locryn.” Jake stroked his cheek, his touch light. He hadn’t expected this. Not for one moment. Although perhaps afternoon tea in Locryn’s den was a strong hint. “Are you sure you want to love a sweary bastard like me?”
“I’m certain of it.” He smiled. “And you can swear all you like. Swear enough for both of us.”
“I can more than manage that!” Jake nuzzled Locryn’s neck again, then he said, “I really, really care about you, Loc. More than I have for anyone else. I mean it.”
But Jake wasn’t sure he could say it. I love you. He wanted to, but he didn’t want to disappoint Locryn by promising something he wasn’t sure he could deliver.
“Thank you,” Locryn murmured, wrapping his arms around Jake. “That means more than you know.”
“Does it?” I’m sorry I can’t say more. “Well, that makes me happy. Very happy.”
Jake breathed in and the scent of Locryn’s cologne merged with the sea and the cave and the fragrant tea. He tried to hold the memory in his mind, so that he could go back to it one day and remember the day Locryn had told him he loved him.
In this world away from the world their kisses grew deeper, their caresses more tender. As they slowly undressed each other Jake felt the warmth of the fire on his naked skin, cozy in the blankets and his lover’s embrace. The embrace of the man who loved him.
As their bodies combined, Jake knew without the slightest doubt that he loved Locryn too. But he’d never said it before and meant it, and now he didn’t know how to. He could show him, though, and Jake was gentle and passionate by turns as their bodies moved as one.
Somehow being in love made his every sense sharper, his every sensation deeper. He couldn’t imagine a life without Locryn Trevorrow in his arms, without the strength and sweetness that he’d found in him. Everything he wanted was here.
Chapter Eighteen
Everyone in Porthavel knew that Jake and Locryn were an item, and it pleased Jake more than he could say that they were so accepting.
They wandered the village hand in hand, and during the day Jake would pop into Locryn’s café or Locryn into Jake’s galleon to catch up—and have a kiss. Jake spent less and less time in his rented farmhouse. Although Locryn had made a stellar effort to make it more homely, Jake preferred Locryn’s cottage. Because that was a real home, and Jake knew it was where Locryn was happiest.
It was where Dorothy was happiest too, and she regularly made her way back and forth between the two, as content beside the baker’s Aga as she was in front of the chef’s fire. Locryn was preparing for the wedding cake in every spare moment now, creat
ing prototypes and test cakes that no one but he and Jake were privy to. Each rehearsal was grander than the last until, on the last trial run, Jake wasn’t sure he was looking at a cake at all. Instead it was a trawler, exquisitely detailed, sensitively carved, sailing on a crystal ocean. It was a work of art, a fitting tribute to the land in which the couple lived.
“It’s beautiful!”
Jake wasn’t sure his words were adequate to capture just what Locryn had achieved. He’d seen a lot of elaborate cakes in his time, but this wasn’t showy, it was true to life, created by a man who had grown up surrounded by the sight of the trawlers while learning his craft in the bakehouse.
“It’s such a big responsibility,” Locryn told him, examining the cake with a careful eye. “When I was a boy, Petroc and Jory got their first trawler together. It was an ancient old thing, but they were so proud of it. That’s what I used for my inspiration. Not the trawler Jory died on, but the one that helped him achieve his dream of being a man of business. They worked so hard and Zoe and David have both inherited that. This should be a testament to all of them.”
He walked Jake around the cake, like a sculptor showing off his finest work. “I don’t know if you can see it, but I’ve put an M and B into the sea foam. A little secret nod to the ladies.”
Jake pointed where the foam bubbled against the prow, so realistically that Jake was half-certain he could hear it. “Yes! I can see it. Just there? What a lovely idea!”
“I feel like I’ve run a marathon.” Locryn stretched his arms above his head. “But I think…dare I say it? I think it’s okay. I hope they’ll love it.”
“Okay? Just okay?” Jake put both arms around Locryn and hugged him tight. “It’s the best fucking cake I’ve ever seen!”
“Do I get a Jake-lin star for it?” Locryn teased, hugging him. “And is eight o’clock too early to collapse into bed? Dorothy was already on the pillow after dinner!”
“You can have three Jake-lin stars. I would definitely make a special journey for that cake. I might even do it by sea—in the fucking cake!” Jake laughed. “Well, I don’t mind going to bed at eight, but not for sleeping.” He raised an eyebrow, insinuating.
And it worked, because ten minutes later they were snuggled among the mountains of pillows and blankets, cozy on Locryn’s vast brass bed. Dorothy had abandoned the pillows with a complaining miaow, moving only as far as the rocking chair before she was slumbering again.
Jake toyed with the buttons on Locryn’s shirt. “What can we do in bed if we’re not sleeping? I forgot to bring the crossword up from the newspaper. Damn, Locryn, what can we do?”
“It’s uncivilized to wear clothes in bed after eight,” was Locryn’s verdict. “That’s the city way.”
“So you Cornish lot”—Jake heaved his jumper over his head and cast it aside, leaving his tight T-shirt on underneath—”you just strip off, like this?”
“Exactly like that. We’re an earthy bunch, you know.” Locryn began to unfasten his shirt buttons. “If I’d been on your show I wouldn’t have heard a word of your advice. I’d have been staring at that T-shirt.”
Jake smoothed it over his chest, knowing how it clung to every contour. “Staring at what?” he said with feigned innocence.
“Staring at what?” Locryn echoed, returning his fingers to his shirt buttons as he kissed Jake back into the mountain of pillows. These wonderful moments of unbridled lust from Locryn never failed to thrill him, a reminder of all the strength it took to be so gentle.
Jake sank his hands into Locryn’s hair, gazing at him, losing himself in the blue depths of his eyes. “I love it when you get toppy with me!” He laughed.
Locryn peeled his shirt off and threw it aside, deliberately taking his time and letting Jake admire his sculpted shoulders before he said, “Toppy? Me? I’m just a mild-mannered baker.”
“A gorgeous, passionate artist,” Jake said as he ran his fingertips over Locryn’s chest.
“Who’s all out of Horlicks.” Locryn slid his hands beneath Jake’s T-shirt, caressing the shape of his body before he teased the T-shirt higher.
“Sod the Horlicks.” Jake drew in a hitched breath. Lust and desire were rising in him, and he helped Locryn pull off his T-shirt. As Locryn’s mouth fell to his chest, his hands were already at Jake’s belt, unfastening the buckle before he moved onto the button of his jeans.
He kissed his way down Jake’s torso, teasing soft darts of his tongue against his hardening nipples, and all the time he was unfastening his jeans with a practiced hand. Jake joined his hand to Locryn’s, his fingers trembling with anticipation on his buttons.
“I’ve got the most gorgeous, sweariest top anyone could ever want,” Locryn murmured as together they popped each button free, the words a caress against Jake’s skin. “You make me feel wild. Alive.”
“I need you… All your bunting and sugar and kindness.” Jake moaned Locryn’s name before brushing his lips over Locryn’s, their kiss rapidly turning into a sloppy snog. They barely broke the kiss as they stripped each other’s clothes and slipped beneath the quilt, bodies and mouths pressed together.
Jake tangled their legs and closed his hand around Locryn’s erection. For a moment, his hand was still as he enjoyed the firmness and size of his lover. When Jake began to stroke, his rhythm was determined. He wanted nothing more than to give Locryn pleasure, and they had enjoyed so many delicious interludes now that he knew just what Locryn liked.
He loved the way Locryn’s naturally quiet manner gave way to moans of pleasure, the way his hands moved against Jake’s body, how he could conjure up so much wonder so easily. They know how to please each other, how to draw out gasps and groans, because they were in love.
And Jake was sure that Locryn didn’t have to hear the words to know it.
Jake always knew the moment when Locryn’s climax began, and he kissed his neck, willing Locryn on, wanting the joy of feeling his body against him as he tensed and writhed with pleasure. It swept through him in an irresistible combination of moans and kisses, his hand moving harder against Jake’s erection to bring them over the edge together.
Jake moaned an incoherent jumble of swear words as his body, still wrapped around Locryn, seemed to glide up to the ceiling as his climax hurtled through his blood.
Afterward they lay together in dreamy, drowsy happiness, limbs entwined and lips softly touching. Jake noticed moonlight spilling through the open curtains, throwing a hint of glitter over the bed and silvering their naked skin. London might have been a million miles away.
“Love you,” Locryn murmured, his eyelids closing just as a knock sounded on the front door.
Jake pressed a kiss to Locryn’s cheek, then he lifted his head and glanced at the luminous dial of Locryn’s alarm clock. “Who is that?” But then, it wasn’t all that late to most people. At least, to most people who hadn’t gone to bed at eight o’clock. “Shall we find out?”
“Let’s”—Locryn kissed him—“not.”
But the knock sounded again, and from outside Jake heard Zoe’s voice float on the breeze as she said to someone, “Let’s try the bakehouse.”
“The cake!” Locryn exclaimed. He jumped out of bed and hurtled to the window, holding the curtain around his naked body like a toga as he lifted the sash and called, “I’ll be there in a moment. Don’t go to the bakehouse!”
Jake wheezed with laughter and rolled over, trying to muffle himself with the pillow. “We are so busted.”
“Is Jake here too?” David called.
“I think he might be here somewhere,” Locryn replied innocently, as though he wasn’t so obviously naked behind his chintzy curtain. Then he glanced back toward the bed. “Yes, there he is!”
“Come down!” Zoe told them through her laughter. “And close the window, you’ll catch a cold!”
Locryn nodded. “Let yourselves in and pop the kettle on. We’ll be down in a mo!”
Jake got out of bed and grabbed a dressing gown and threw it to L
ocryn. He slipped into another and tied the belt. “Quick wash and brush up then our public awaits!”
Five minutes later the men descended the staircase, leaving Dorothy to happily occupy the bed in their absence. Locryn had fussed and worried a little about meeting his colleague in nothing but a dressing gown, but since she had just seen him in nothing but a curtain, he eventually decided that there was little point in worrying about it. Besides, he reasoned, he was regularly seen in even less when he undertook his sea swims.
And the thought of Locryn in swim shorts, his arms scything through the ocean, was one that Jake wouldn’t easily forget.
Jake scrubbed his hand back through his hair. “Evening,” he said, as casually as he could. It was so obvious that they’d been up to saucy shenanigans, but Jake didn’t care. It didn’t help that Zoe and David were seated at the kitchen table which, though comprehensively cleaned and tidied since he had romped there with Locryn, would forever be the place where they had made love after midnight amid clouds of flour and slicks of butter. Now all that was on the table was a bright blue teapot and four mismatched cups and saucers, as well as a little plate of shortbread fingers from which Zoe was stripping the clingfilm.
“I baked!” she told them, beaming with pride. “And you’re both…sort of naked.”
“Hardly,” Locryn told her, tightening the belt of his cozy dressing gown a little more. He settled onto a chair and said, “Hello, bride and groom! How’re the parents getting along?”
Zoe looked to David and said, “Tell him about your dad, Dave. He’s like a new man!”
Dave paused, a piece of shortbread almost in his mouth. He lowered his hand and said, “He’s had his hair cut. He’s bought a new shirt. He took me to Plymouth to go shopping for new aftershave. He sings to himself. Not just them old sea shanties, but modern stuff too. And he keeps laughing. And…well, we’re calling it The Merryn Effect, aren’t we, Zo?”
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