The Queen's Librarian (4 page)

“And happened to mention how the unfortunate old dear Mistress Pumpkin-nose was having difficulty stretching her resources since poor
Mister
Pumpkin-nose was so cruelly done in two years past.” Alex grimaced. “What a way to go. No wonder Mistress Pumpkin-nose went dotty.”

“Mistress
Singer
has always been a bit dotty,” Lucas put in. “And it’s unseemly to make fun of the departed.”

“Death-by-puddle!” Alex defended. “Making fun would be redundant.”

Lucas tried very hard not to snort. Mister Singer had been a very sweet, very jolly man, and it was a shame he was gone. But still. “It’s not nice,” he chided.

“Mister Pumpkin-nose would have appreciated the macabre humor.”

He probably would have, at that.

“And anyway,” Alex went on, “if you’re going to go out in the most painless way possible, passing out drunk and facedown in a mud puddle is probably at the top of the list. I like to think he’s left us all an entertaining legacy. After all, I didn’t even know his name before, and now I’ll never forget it.”

“‘Mister Pumpkin-nose’ doesn’t count.”

“I bet Mistress Pumpkin-nose and any little Pumpkin-noses would beg to differ.”

Lucas shook his head. “You’re
the
most irreverent person I know.” He elbowed Alex sharply in the ribs. “You wouldn’t get away with that if you weren’t so bloody good-looking, y’know. Your pretty face is the only thing that’s saved you from a lifetime of arse-kickings, I’ll wager.” Lucas knew it did wonders for his own temperament.

Alex more or less ignored the jab to the ribs and chose to preen a bit instead, stroking ostentatiously at his perfectly trimmed beard. “You,” he said with that dazzling grin, “have no sense of humor.”

“Of course I have.” Lucas smirked. “I’ve not taken a mallet to
your
head yet, have I?”

“Only because it would ruin my pretty face.”

“And mess up your hair.”

“Can’t be done,” Alex retorted.

Lucas rolled his eyes. Because it really couldn’t. He’d tried. Lots of times. Alex was the only person Lucas knew who could emerge from the bottom of a rugby scrum with not a hair out of place. Or from beneath a pile of quilts and linens, after having suffered the abuse of Lucas’s own grasping fingers, while Alex did those brain-melting things with his tongue that—

Right. Lucas was probably better off not letting his mind wander there just now.

“Are you coming to mine?” he asked as they turned onto the bend in the road that marked the boundary of Rolling Green.

“Well, you do know sex is a sure cure for a headache, yeah?”

“So you’ve told me,” Lucas replied with a grin. “Funny how it only ever seems to come up when I’ve got a headache. Or you, now that I think about it.”

Alex put his arm around Lucas’s shoulders again. “And has it ever failed?” Alex waggled his eyebrows, because Lucas didn’t have to admit it out loud—they both knew. “I thought we could maybe spend the morning in. Have a kip. Indulge in the fruits of the flesh, and then—”

“
Fruits
of the
flesh
? You are
such
a sap.”

“—and then you could come to the match and we’ll have supper at the Dark Horse.” He dipped his head down to murmur in Lucas’s ear, all singsong and seductive: “I hear they’ve been asking Ennis at the Duck about who supplies their blackberry wine and their apple brandy.”

“Oh?” Lucas perked right up at that. Watching Alex ram around the rugby pitch in short pants,
and
the possibility of new business…. Optimism ran away with Lucas’s mind for a lovely moment, until his memory kicked in. “Oh.” He slumped. “I don’t think I can. I’d planned to ride out to the vineyards and have a look at the—”

“Lucas, it’s
Sun’s Day
, for pity’s sake.” Alex sounded annoyed, but Lucas knew it was
for
him and not
at
him. “And you still look a little pale. Can’t you take one day for yourself?”

“I always look pale.” Lucas shrugged. “And the vintners and pickers have all been out there for days and nights with the smudge pots and torches. It’s only fair.”

“I thought one of the benefits of being a landlord and just generally the boss of everyone in a four-league radius is that you don’t
have
to be fair.”

Lucas snorted. “Said the man who ‘accidentally’ knocked over his own haystack last year so he wouldn’t win the Harvest Pig.”

“It
was
an accident.” Alex sniffed. He slid a tight-lipped look over at Lucas then rolled his eyes. “That little girl had
named
the bloody thing. How was I supposed to feel comfortable eating bacon made of ‘Sweetums’?” He glared when Lucas couldn’t quite contain his snickers. “And anyway, it took me two days of sunburn and blistered hands and generally sweating my arse off before your people stopped looking at me like I was expecting them to go fetch me an umbrella and a cold drink. I wasn’t about to queer it all by walking away with… with
Sweetums
. It’s bad enough they still suspect I’m going to corrupt and walk away with you.”

Lucas was having a hard time not laughing. “Did you just imply that ‘my people’ place the same value on a pig that they do on me?”

“Well,” Alex said as he very obviously angled out of swatting distance, “Sweetums was a very
nice
pig.”

Lucas didn’t get a chance to retaliate. And after he recognized the abrupt din coming from down the lane for what it was, he realized he wouldn’t have to. Bramble would do it for him. He grinned as the barking went from that suspicious
I’m a big vicious dog who eats brigands for breakfast
warning tone into the unabashed
I’m actually just a giant puppy and yay! I’ve missed you so much!
tenor that greeted Lucas unfailingly, whether he’d been away for days or had merely ducked into the loo for a minute and a half. Lucas widened his grin, subtly stepped aside, and tipped his head toward Alex.

“Oh, no, you don’t,” Alex muttered as he warily watched Bramble change the direction of his lope up the lane and angle his trajectory right toward Alex, long fur fluffed out and tongue flapping like a soggy flag in the wind. “That dog,” Alex said evenly, “will
not
have another waistcoat to add to his score.”

Which would be Bramble 4, Alex 0. And that wasn’t even counting trousers and jackets.

Lucas tried to duck out of Alex’s reach, but he was a little slow today, and the laughing only made him more so. “Hey!” was all he could yelp, as Alex took hold of his shoulders and planted him firmly in the path between dog projectile and expensive waistcoat. “Wait, Bramble, no, down, boy!”

It did no good, neither Alex’s maneuvering nor Lucas’s command. Lucas didn’t know how Bramble managed it—mostly because he couldn’t really see with the furry barrel of Bramble’s chest in his face—but he thought perhaps being short and not much of a barricade helped. Bramble’s massive muddy paws went unerringly to Alex’s shoulders, only missing the waistcoat because Lucas was in the way and Bramble seemed loath to actually jam his paws into Lucas’s face. It didn’t save the jacket, which served Alex right, Lucas thought, as he tried to shove Bramble off and spit fur out of his mouth, all while trying to avoid the thick string of drool hanging out the side of Bramble’s jaw and flopping dangerously close to Lucas’s forehead as Bramble stretched over Lucas’s shoulder to try to lick Alex’s face.

Lucas finally solved the problem by “accidentally” elbowing Alex in the stomach—well, it was a ruckus and all; one couldn’t be expected to keep track of elbows in a ruckus—to make Alex let go of Lucas’s shoulders so Lucas could duck under Bramble’s left paw. See? There were very clear advantages to having a dog that was much bigger than you were.

“Traitor!” Alex cried, managing to avoid the flapping tongue up the side of his face, but sacrificing the jacket’s already muddy shoulder to the rope of drool.

“I’ll give you traitor,” Lucas retorted, inspecting his own coat and self, but he was, miraculously, muddy-paw-print free. He straightened his glasses and lifted his chin. “
You’re
the one who thrust me into the breach. Men have been called out for as much, y’know. And worse—denied sex.”

Alex paused as he straight-armed Bramble. “Does that mean I might be getting some?”

“Well, I’ve heard it’s a sure cure for a headache.”

“Yes, yes, all right,” Alex offered, somewhat desperately, stretching his neck back until he was almost doing a backbend to avoid the runaway tongue. “I’m sorry, just….” He almost whined. “
Please
?”

Lucas grinned. “I do love a man who can beg so prettily.” He set his teeth and pushed a sharp whistle through them. “Bramble. C’mon, now, boy.
Down
!”

Lucas had no illusions that Bramble would listen unless he actually wanted to. Size and an innocent-puppy attitude seemed to work to his advantage altogether too well. This time, Bramble turned his head to give Lucas a sloppy doggy grin, bushy tail swiping at the grass and big, brown eyes alight.

“
Down
!” Lucas said again then slapped his thigh. “C’mon, then, over here.”

Bramble scrambled to comply this time, but not without grinding his forepaws into Alex’s lapels on his way down to all fours. With his very best impersonation of an obedient pet, Bramble sat his massive self down at Lucas’s feet and settled his head against Lucas’s ribs. The adoring stare upward was a very clear
Pet me, pet me, you have to pet meeeeeeeeee pleasepleaseplease, I missed you so much
, and Lucas never could resist such endearing begging. Just ask Alex. Lucas obligingly scratched Bramble around his big, floppy ears and very pointedly did not outright laugh at Alex’s exasperated attempts to brush off his coat.

“
That
,” Alex said between his teeth, pointing with a narrow stare at a very innocent-looking Bramble, “is
not
a dog.
That
is a goblin from the Netherworld in a dog suit.”

Lucas tried to imitate Bramble’s guileless expression,
sans
the dopey doggy grin. “They have dog-suit-wearing, jacket-ruining goblins?”

“Made expressly for the purpose,” Alex stated. “And
that
one”—again pointing at Bramble—“is their bloody king.”

“Did you hear that, Bramble? King!” Lucas gave the dog’s head a pat and decided that Alex had suffered enough. “Stay,” he told Bramble, as he dug out a handkerchief and made a few swipes at Alex’s lapels. It only took the few to determine it wouldn’t help. “Come on, I’ll stop in at mine while you go up to the main house and find Miss Emma. You can charm her into cleaning it up for you, and by the time you get back, I’ll have tea ready.”

“Charm nothing,” Alex grumbled. “I’ll have you know that Miss Emma, bless her, is equally as convinced as I am that that… that”—yet again, pointing accusingly at Bramble, who gave out a happy little yip and swished his tail—“that
creature
would make a much better rug than—”

Lucas cut off the budding tirade by the simple expedient of dragging Alex down by his collar and kissing him. “You can be so cute sometimes,” he said as he reached up to pat Alex’s cheek.

Alex hesitated for a second, apparently unsure if he’d yet displayed sufficient outrage. His smile was a bit grudging, but his return kiss was pretty heartfelt, if Lucas was any judge. “Fair warning,” Alex said, dipping down to lay a teasing nibble to the side of Lucas’s throat, “I’m perfectly willing to let myself be distracted now.” A hot swipe of Alex’s tongue just beneath Lucas’s chin. “And only because your Goblin King somehow missed the waistcoat.” Then Alex slid his long finger up the small of Lucas’s back. “But the bedroom door gets closed and locked tonight, with him on the other—”

“Hoy, don’t you two ever
quit
?” came from only a few steps behind Lucas, and the fact that Bramble hadn’t bothered with his
I’m a big vicious dog who eats brigands for breakfast
routine—plus the very distinctive tone and timbre of the voice—told Lucas exactly who it was. Alex jumped, but Lucas merely sighed. Well, there went the sex and the kip.

“Hullo, Laurie,” Lucas said as he turned to find his younger cousin grinning at them with a roguish glint in his eye. Lucas didn’t even bother with the bow. “I thought we agreed after the last time that you would write to warn me when you were coming for a visit.”

The last time
being when Laurie had shown up at Lucas’s door out of the blue
just to visit my favorite cousin for a while
and failed to notify his-mother-the-Queen—not to mention Dorset, his guardsman—where he was. It wasn’t until the criers had flown through with their news that the young prince was missing that Lucas had even thought to ask Laurie exactly where he might have lost his brain. It was a good thing Dorset knew Lucas, or the guard detail might have strung him up right there out of relief and resulting frustration. As it was, Dorset did know Lucas, and he also knew Laurie a little too well, and so had merely given Lucas a commiserating shake of his head along with a he’s-all-yours look and gone back to inform the Queen that her son was not, in fact, kidnapped or in danger, but merely a twat.

Laurie’s grin broadened. “I did write,” he assured Lucas. “My letter should arrive in the post tomorrow.”

Lucas’s mouth set into a stern line. “The point of a warning is the advance-notice bit, y’know.” He shook his head and tried not to smile at his cousin. Lucas was just way too susceptible to charm. “Does your mother know where you are?” he asked pointedly.

“Oh, look,” said Laurie, “a dead horse. Let’s beat it.” He sighed, all put-upon, complete with rolling eyes and slumping shoulders. “Of
course
she knows. I’ve
said
I was sorry, Lucas,
hundreds
of times, are you ever going to forgive me?” It seemed Laurie wasn’t terribly interested in the answer, and his attention had already been diverted. “H’llo, Alex! Nice jacket.”

Alex gave Laurie a glare, but Laurie seemed to deflect it somehow. Lucas could actually see the unwilling smile flitter about Alex’s mouth. “I was wrong,” Alex told Lucas with an evil little glint as he hooked a thumb at Laurie. “
He’s
their king. Bramble’s only a hapless minion.” He grinned at Laurie and dipped a bow, just deferential enough to pass if Lucas’s mother happened to be watching, and just sincere enough to make Laurie roll his eyes. “Majesty.”