Spoken from the Heart - 1

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and
incidents either are the product of the author's
imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to
actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living
or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of
either the author or the publisher.

Spoken from the Heart
Torquere Press Publishers
PO Box 2545
Round Rock, TX 78680
Copyright 2012 by Jane Davitt
Cover illustration by Alessia Brio
Published with permission
ISBN: 978-1-61040-701-4

www.torquerepress.com

All rights reserved, which includes the right to
reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form
whatsoever except as provided by the U.S. Copyright
Law. For information address Torquere Press. Inc., PO
Box 2545, Round Rock, TX 78680.
First Torquere Press Printing: February 2012
Printed in the USA

Spoken from the Heart - 2

ROMEO

Lady, by yonder blessed moon I swear
That tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops--
William Shakespeare 'Romeo and Juliet' Act 2, Scene 2

Spoken from the Heart - 3

Chapter One

"So Galliero passed?" The barkeep set a jug of

Reckton Red on the table in front of Julian, so full that
the wine seemed in danger of spilling over the lip, and
put a wooden cup beside it. A generous man -- or a
barkeep who didn't realize that the court dandies had
decided with the capriciousness of the very bored that
the rough, peppery wine only peasants drank was
fashionable.

Julian would've wagered a month's wages that if he

returned to the Saddle and Stirrup in a few weeks, the
jug would've become a single glass, not over-full, and
the price triple what he was paying today.

He touched the black feather thrust through the first

button hole on his waistcoat and nodded. "He died at
midnight, or so I was told. I hear his last words were
borrowed from his favorite play, but I'm not inclined to
credit it. What man goes to his death with a smile on his
face?"

The barkeep snorted. "I say he did quote from

Mischief and Mayhem. The man was born to make
people laugh; why not Death himself?"

Julian chuckled and poured himself some wine. "True

enough." He raised his cup, regretting that his choice of
an outside table had doomed him to drink from wood,
not glass. The sunlight catching the crimson liquid and
making it glow like a ruby would've been most effective.
"Well, the theaters are closed in his memory, so I have
the day in which to get drunk -- also in his memory."

And regret the loan of twenty silver a month

ago…little chance of Galliero's sister repaying him, even
if Julian was at his most charming with the acid-tongued
shrew.

Spoken from the Heart - 4

The barkeep began to speak, but a group of laborers

came into view. Their faces were sweat-dappled, their
green jerkins emblazoned with the Duke's sigil, the
stylized hawk dark against the cloth.

"They look thirsty."
"Aye, and they'll be in a hurry to get back to work. If

you'll excuse me, sir…" A hand was extended,
respectfully but firmly.

Wooden cups and payment demanded after each

drink. Next time, he would sit inside, even if the smoke
did make his throat close up and roughen his voice.
Julian took the necessary coppers from the pouch at his
belt and handed them over with a nod he made a shade
less friendly than normal.

He had yet to reach Galliero's stature in the theater,

but he was Julian Melville, after all, and his portrayal of
Dracor's death in A Man's Honor had reduced the duke's
daughter, Lady Helena, to tears, her quiet sobs the only
sound in the hushed theater. The crowd had risen to its
feet, applauding him as he lay bloodied and broken, that
damn sword digging into his hip, only professionalism
keeping him from shifting it an inch to the left.

The barkeep cleared his throat apologetically. "That'll

be another six pennies, sir. We've had quite a run on the
Reckton this week. Seems it's popular all of a sudden."

Julian twisted his lips into an aloof smile -- damn --

and tossed a silver piece on the table. "Keep the change
and buy yourself a glass of it, since you were such an
admirer of my late, esteemed colleague."

"Thank you, sir." The barkeep touched a finger to the

lank hair falling across his broad forehead and left Julian
to drink alone, an unusual state of affairs for him.

His pouch seemed considerably lighter. He really had

to remember that grand gestures were only satisfying in

Spoken from the Heart - 5

the moment. And the Reckton was sour on the tongue
and would most likely make his gut tie itself in knots.
He should be setting fashion, not following it, but what
were the chances of that when even an inn keeper was
unimpressed by him?

Well…considerably better now that the Pinnacle

Theater had lost its star actor.

Guilt shamed him into taking an unwisely large gulp

of wine in penance for his uncharitable thoughts.
Galliero hadn't been a friend, exactly -- unless friendship
was signified by the man's readiness to borrow money
and ask favors from Julian -- but he'd been carelessly
kind in those first years when parts had been thin and
applause a bored, polite patter.

Galliero had taught him how to beware of being

upstaged, warned him of actors who would subtly alter
the final word of a speech so that Julian's cue was
missed, his response fumbled. Had spent an afternoon
coaching Julian until his voice could fill the vast space
between floor and balcony with a deep, resonant thunder,
not a scared, thin squeak.

And had introduced him to Lord Marcus as an up-

and-coming new talent in need of a sponsor with a wink
and a nod Julian had never quite been sure was meant
for him. Marcus' gold had kept Julian from starving and
put velvet and silk on his back. If his ass had been left
raw from too vigorous a use more than once, at least
Marcus was careful with his prick when it was in
Julian's mouth. An actor's throat and voice were
precious, after all.

Galliero's forte had been comedy, but he'd kept some

juicy dramatic roles clutched to that increasingly wide
chest of his that might just possibly fall to Julian if he
approached Master Sampton, the owner of the Pinnacle

Spoken from the Heart - 6

Theater, with the proper mix of confidence and respect.
They were to begin rehearsing Silence Falls soon. King
Henry's mad scene -- what he could do with that!
Galliero had wrung every ounce of pathos from the part
the last time he'd played it, but completely missed the
driving greed for power that still burned bright in the
ruined mind. Julian had been cast as the king's childhood
friend, powerless to arrest his monarch's ambition,
endangering himself with every unwise word. A good
role, to be sure, and one he'd been more than happy with,
but now…perhaps…

His thoughts occupied by the pitch he'd need to make,

the warmth of the early summer afternoon soporific,
Julian allowed himself to drift into daydreams. The
bustle of the square dimmed to a faint buzz, and he
smelled not the heat rising off the cobbles or the rank
stink of cabbages from the vegetable stall close by, but
the dry, dusty air of the theater and the familiar, oily
scent of the cosmetics his dresser applied so deftly to his
face. The raucous voices of the stallholders bargaining
with their customers, the endless rain of the fountain at
the center of the square, its water clean and pure these
days, thanks to the duke's orders -- all was muted,
distant.

His star was rising, his time was here. He would be

feted, adored, successful enough, perhaps, to be able to
introduce Marcus to a new protégé, like, hmm, young
Selwyn, perhaps. That mop of yellow hair, those bright,
knowing blue eyes that could feign innocence so well…
Marcus would enjoy the conquest and never see the
calculation behind Selwyn's winning charm.

"You misbegotten son of a flea-bitten whore!"
Julian automatically tried to place the line -- Season's

Turn? Lady Whimsy's Wish? -- before realizing it had

Spoken from the Heart - 7

been said with genuine anger thickening each syllable.
Jolted from his reverie, he turned his head, lazily
interested in whatever had prompted the outburst.

The justice stocks, discreetly tucked away in a corner

a hundred paces or so from Julian's table, were occupied,
and by the sound of it, one of justice's helpers wasn't
happy.

Julian grinned. Some of the duke's innovations were

decidedly on the eccentric side. Offering petty criminals
their choice of punishment had caused an uproar
amongst the citizens even before word had leaked out
about the nature of some of the options.

With the idle curiosity of a man with nothing better

to do, he swallowed down what remained of his wine,
then refilled the wooden cup from the jug. Wine in hand,
he sauntered over to the stocks, approving the relative
cleanliness of the cobbles these days. His boots were
new, their glossy black leather soft to the touch, the
buff-colored cuffs as deep as the current mode
demanded. Soiling them with mud or refuse would have
been a pity.

The young man kneeling in the stocks, his head a

perfect height for the action he'd need to perform to be
released from them, was flushed with indignation. Julian
gave the prisoner a swift glance, the watchful guard
another, then turned his attention to the man tucking his
prick away inside his breeches, his mouth still spouting
abuse. Julian summed him up at a glance. Tall, burly,
with cold gray eyes and the tang of the ocean about him.
A sailor, his skin burned dark by the southern sun, gold
rings hanging heavy from his ears.

"You'll not count this against what he owes!" the

sailor told the guard, whose lack of interest was palpable.
"The thieving piece of shit bit me."

Spoken from the Heart - 8

"You got what you wanted." The guard looked

pointedly at the snail's trail of white on the man's
breeches. "Move on. There're others waiting."

"Oh, I'm not waiting." Julian sipped his wine and

gave the two men standing a sunny smile. "Just
observing."

"If you don't want to use him, you can move on, too."

The guard didn't trouble to rest his hand on his sword.
The duke's men rarely needed to draw steel within the
city after the Night of Blades a decade earlier. He
glanced down at the prisoner and scuffed his hand
through the lad's thick, curling hair in a friendly way.
"One more to service and you can go home to your
mother and tell her what a busy day you had. Or lie. If
you want my advice, I'd choose to lie."

The sailor snorted, wiped his hand down his breeches,

and slapped it, wet with come, against the prisoner's
cheek. "I hope you choke on what he spills down your
throat, you little--"

"Citizen. Move on." The words stung like bees, sharp

and swift.

The sailor drew himself up and walked away, his gait

unsteady, as if a deck still heaved beneath his feet, not
the solid, unmoving earth. Julian watched the sailor go,
letting the details of the man's walk soak into his mind.
He couldn't recall a decent sailor's role, but who knew
when it might come in handy to know how a man fresh
from a voyage put one foot in front of another? An actor
could learn a lot from simply using his eyes and ears.

The guard cleared his throat. "If you've need of

release, use him, otherwise…"

"Move on. I know." Julian sipped his wine again and

gave the prisoner a considering look. The youngster's
head was lowered now, but the mop of silky, auburn

Spoken from the Heart - 9

curls and the slender wrists and strong, tanned hands he
could see were somewhat intriguing. He wasn't surprised
the guard had tousled that hair. It drew the eye. Julian let
himself wonder what it would be like to plunge both
hands into it and hold the lad steady before fucking his
mouth in slow, luxurious strokes, but it was no more
than a passing thought. Julian Melville didn't rut in
public, and his partners were willing -- and clean. And
usually older. The lad's jerkin was a grubby brown, his
leather breeches patched and stained, and Julian put his
age around nineteen, if that.

"What did he do?"
"Stole food from a stall. Caught with it before he'd

gone a few paces."

"I was hungry." The words were directed at the

cobblestones, filled with a weary defiance. "I didn't -- at
home, no one would've minded--"

"You're in the city now, boy. Everything has a price,

even kindness." The guard jerked his head at Julian. "If
you please, citizen."

Something about the bewildered hurt in the lad's

voice caught at Julian. He hesitated, pity replacing his
amused lack of sympathy -- the penalty was a kinder one
than the loss of a finger, after all, which would've been
the lad's fate under the old duke.

"Can I buy his freedom? A whore would charge,

what, ten coppers a time? I could give you fifteen?" He
could afford that, and the glow of magnanimity would
be pleasant. Even if the boy would most likely steal
again if his belly was empty -- and though Julian was
hazy on the exact wording of the law, he had a feeling
the penalty for a second offense wouldn't be as light.
The duke was eccentric, not stupid.

Spoken from the Heart - 10

The guard shook his head. "'One Law for Rich and

Poor'," he quoted. "Peasant or prince, he chose this, and
he stays here until he's done, and I with him to see
justice." With a rougher touch than before, the guard
grabbed a handful of hair and brought the prisoner's
head back, exposing his face and the pure lines of his
throat, the fair skin tanned by the sun. "He's pretty
enough to pass as a girl if that's more your fancy."

"I am not!"
The guard shook the prisoner's head by way of

rebuke, his grip tight enough now to bring tears to the
green eyes. "And making him hold his tongue would be
a kindness. It's sharp enough that three likely prospects
walked on by after hearing him."

Julian laughed uneasily. Those eyes, blazing with

indignation, and a swollen, lush mouth had his cock
hardening, but he had some standards, damn it.

"You sound like a man who wishes his task to be

over."

The guard grimaced and lowered his voice, though no

one was in earshot. "I feel like the owner of an ease-
house. Look, citizen, time's passing. I'd take it as a
personal favor if you'd just--"

"What's the rush?" There was a mouthful of wine

swilling around in the bottom of the cup. Julian
crouched and held it to the lad's lips. "Here. Wash out
the taste of the last one."

Eyebrows two shades darker than the lad's hair

snapped together in a frown and his lips became a
stubborn, tight line.

"Go ahead," the guard encouraged him. "Nothing to

say you can't drink something beside a mouthful of
white."

Spoken from the Heart - 11

Slowly, the lad parted his lips, suspicion darkening

his eyes. Julian wondered what he'd looked like when
he'd first arrived in the city, eager for adventure and
trusting everyone. Younger? Happier? He tilted the cup
and let the wine trickle into the waiting mouth. A swipe
of a tongue to catch the last drop, and the boy's mouth
was closed again, hiding white teeth that looked like
they could bite very handily. One eyetooth was a
fraction crooked, and the lad's breath was sour behind
the taste of wine, but yes, he was pretty, if one's taste ran
to that.

Julian straightened. "Why the rush?" he asked again.
The guard shrugged. "My time's worth something,

though you wouldn't think it. I can't stand here forever.
He gets two hours to work off his sentence or he takes
the rest in lashes. Some go for the lashes from the start,
but by the third, I'm guessing they wish they'd chosen
differently, and by the seventh, well, they're usually past
caring."

A single lash didn't sound unbearable unless a man

had seen the heavy, barbed whip used on criminals.
Julian had. It sliced skin open and left scars. The pain
and the blood loss weren't fatal, but the infection that
generally followed sometimes was.

"How long does he have left?"
The guard glanced up at the clock tower two squares

over. "Put it this way, he needs someone quick off the
mark. A quarter-hour. Less."

"Oh, darkness take it--" With a swift glance around to

make sure no one was watching, Julian undid the placket
of his breeches and eased out his prick. Embarrassment
wasn't a failing of his, but the fearlessness an actor
required to perform didn't extend to a situation like this.
Sweat prickled hot and cold over his body, and he had to

Spoken from the Heart - 12

close his eyes for a moment and think himself into
character. A man with arrogance to spare, or nowhere to
fall in people's eyes, would do this without thought. He'd
been told he had the arrogance often enough…

Bending down again, he took the lad's chin in his

hand and felt the bone beneath the flesh. No stubble to
speak of, but he could see the scatter of freckles -- sun-
kisses, his nurse had called them -- across the lad's nose.
"What's your name?"

Teeth snapped shut in answer.
"Fine." Julian glanced up at the guard. "What did he

steal?"

"An apple."
"Should have been a sausage." That got a chuckle

from the guard and a hissed-out protest from the
prisoner.

Julian returned his attention to the man whose skin

was warm against his fingers. "Some ground rules, my
little country pippin. I'm doing this because I'm in a
sentimental mood for reasons that don't concern you.
You bite me, and I'll bite you back. I'm clean, and I
bathed this morning. I'm not so well-endowed that I'll
choke you, but I'm above average, so I won't be
offended if you don't take me all. No need to get fancy,
just--"

"You don't pay your whores by the hour, do you?"

the guard inquired. "Because if this is how you do
business, it must cost you a week's wages to get your
itch scratched."

Julian stood and worked himself hard enough to be

sucked, the action familiar enough to override his
qualms. "My apologies for being tedious, but I'm not in
the mood to have my prick chewed."

"Some men pay extra for a little pain."

Spoken from the Heart - 13

Julian shuddered, his hand slackening. He wasn't

averse to a certain amount of…experimentation, but
pain, well, pain hurt. The warm air on his cock, the
mouth waiting for it, sullen, sulky, stubborn and so
damned appealing -- his arousal built quickly, and he
moved closer.

"Suck me, Pippin. I'll make it quick."
"His back will thank you if you do." The guard's

remarks, delivered with a heavy jocularity, were
beginning to irritate Julian, but he kept that to himself.
He suspected the guard was genuinely reluctant to hand
Pippin, or whatever the lad's name was, over to be
flogged.

Pippin closed his eyes, a wave of scarlet sweeping up

from his neck to his ears. Julian ignored the evident
shame the boy was enduring. If he went to the whipping
post, he'd be naked, with the crowd jeering him until the
expectant, avid silence fell. This was better.

He ran his thumb over lips the wind and sun had

chapped, and pushed it inside, not ungently. "Open for
me."

With a choked sound that could've been a tear or pure

fury, Pippin did just that, and Julian slid his cock home,
the sweet tingle of danger and delight making his balls
tighten. He didn't expect anything in the way of
technique, confining his hope to the sincere wish that
Pippin would keep his teeth out of all-too-tender flesh.
After a few shallow, slow thrusts to measure the depth,
he relaxed enough to get some measure of enjoyment
out of an experience that bordered on the surreal.

He, Julian Melville, was getting his cock sucked dry

by a country boy, in broad daylight, in Sandrin Square.

Spoken from the Heart - 14

Friends and rivals alike might accept it'd happened

should he ever be foolish enough to share the story, but
no one would believe his motives were pure.

The guard had turned his head away, giving an

illusion of privacy. The pressure of the passing moments
lay heavily on Julian, but it had been so long since he'd
felt the sweet slickness of a warm mouth around his
prick that rushing seemed a sinful waste. Marcus had
never, would never, lower himself so far as to offer this,
though Julian had often suspected he was tempted by a
change in role. Dignity had always trumped desire.

He needed to end this. His eyes slid closed, blocking

out the scene before him, allowing him to recreate a
better one. His bedroom, the candles burning with a
fitful, flickering illumination, pouring out golden light
against Pippin's fair skin. Pippin wouldn't be kneeling,
bound, but crouched between his legs, eagerly taking
him deep, choking himself so that Julian would reach
out and smooth back the auburn hair, slowing down time,
making Pippin see there was no rush, no need to do
anything but let the pleasure build between them--

"The clock will strike soon."
"Oh, in the name of the Lady--" Julian glared down at

Pippin, his fantasy in ruins. "Your tongue. Use it.
You've licked a sugar cane, yes?"

Pippin swallowed, the action itself almost enough,

almost, and flicked his tongue, a liquid swirl that undid
Julian completely. He had sense enough to keep his
strangled moan mostly inside his throat, but it cost him.

The clock struck the turn as he pulled free, his prick

shiny and a pearl of white gleaming at its slit.

"Justice done." With a brisk efficiency that Julian,

weak-kneed and breathless, found distinctly jarring, the
guard unlocked the stocks, freeing Pippin. Julian

Spoken from the Heart - 15

fumbled his breeches closed and swept his hand over his
hair, trusting that any disorder of his dark brown locks
looked windswept, not messy. There wasn't a breath of
air, but the tousled look was fashionable. It took a while
to create, but appearances mattered, and he didn't grudge
the time spent in front of his mirror, a wet comb in his
hand.

Pippin stood, swaying as if he was giddy. Julian

supposed a few hours kneeling would do that to a man.
He wasn't sure what to say, something of a novel
experience for him. No perfectly crafted line from a play
came to mind to help him out. If Pippin had offered him
thanks, he would've been able to respond using the
words of the masters, deftly tweaked, of course, but
Pippin was staring at the cobbles, his head down.

"You're free to go, lad." The guard pushed Pippin's

shoulder, making him stumble. "Be off with you."

It occurred to Julian that another reason for Pippin's

unsteadiness might be hunger. One of his father's
favorite sayings, delivered in a flat voice that brooked
no dissent, had been that a job half-done wasn't done at
all. The guard walked away without a backward glance,
his job done, and Julian sighed inwardly and stepped
forward, supporting Pippin with a hand under his elbow.
Pippin was three inches taller than Julian, with broad
shoulders and a rangy frame he hadn't quite grown into
yet.

"Pippin--"
"That's not my name."
"It's the only one I've got," Julian pointed out with

some asperity. He drew a breath. "I find myself with an
appetite, and we're no more than a few minute's walk
from the best meat and potato pie in the city. I hate to

Spoken from the Heart - 16

eat alone, so if you'd be my guest, I'd count it as a
favor."

Pippin shook free of Julian's grip. "Back on the farm,

I used to shovel shit. It wasn't so long ago that I don't
recognize the smell."

"It's possible the favor would be mostly on my side,"

Julian allowed, "but pride won't fill your belly. Did I
mention the pepper gravy? Trust me, you can't come to
the city and not taste Mistress Lindy's pepper gravy."

Pippin was milk-pale beneath the tan, the dirt, and the

freckles. "I have no money."

"Old news."
"I will not -- I will not do that again to pay for my

meal."

"It might be hard to credit, but you're not my usual

choice of bedmate. Men, yes, innocents, never. Your
company for the time it takes to feed us both is all I
ask."

"Why?" The question was a faint whisper, but Julian

had been trained to hear the hiss of a prompter twenty
feet away.

He bent to pick up the wooden cup from the ground.

"There are a hundred young men like you arriving in the
city today, Pippin. More. Young girls, too, fresh from
the country and disillusioned at best before the sun sets.
I would have gone through my day without giving them
a thought, but you were thrust under my nose and I can't
turn my back on you and sleep easy tonight." He tapped
Pippin's shoulder. "I have no wish for word of this to get
out. My reputation for being a heartless frivol is dear to
me. Do we understand each other?"

"I don't understand most of what you say, but I'll go

with you if you'll feed me, I suppose." Pippin's broad

Spoken from the Heart - 17

shoulders drooped. "I've been hungry before, but not
like this."

Julian had known hunger and could remember how

desperate he'd been to ease the cramped emptiness in his
belly. He slipped his hand under Pippin's arm again, as
he would've done with a friend, and guided Pippin away
from the stocks.

When they passed the inn, he tossed the wooden cup

at a server, who caught it deftly and snatched the copper
Julian threw next with a matching dexterity.

Neatly done.

Spoken from the Heart - 18

Chapter Two

Mistress Lindy's was one of Julian's favorite places to

eat when he was hungry, nothing more than that. He
patronized expensive restaurants to show off a new
cloak, fur-trimmed and fastened at the throat with an
intricate pin worked in gold, or to ply his charm on a
director or a fellow actor over a small plate of over-
priced tidbits. Sometimes, he was there playing the role
of Marcus' friend in such a way that no one could accuse
him of being more, but everyone who looked knew what
he was… At times such as that, the food was the least
important part of the event.

At Mistress Lindy's, the food was everything.
He found them a table tucked away at the back of the

room, close enough to the kitchens that a man could eat
on the smell alone. The irregularly shaped room, its
rough walls whitewashed annually, though the framed
playbills covering the walls made that effort pointless,
was as quiet as it ever got. Lindy's was open around the
clock, but those seeking a midday meal had come and
gone, leaving spaces at the long table running down the
center of the room, as well as free tables in odd corners.
Julian saw some familiar faces, but deliberately caught
no one's eye. He knew how to make an entrance, but he
was capable of entering a room discreetly, too.

The people who ate here usually had some

connection to the theater or hoped to form one. It was
perfectly positioned, a short walk from two of the major
theaters in the city, the Pinnacle and its rival, The
Garrick. Mistress Lindy herself had once been a costume
designer of note at the Pinnacle, but when her eyesight
dimmed after taking a million precise stitches, she'd

Spoken from the Heart - 19

retired to open the eating house and her second career
was proving as successful as her first.

Pippin sat as if his legs would no longer hold him and

shot Julian a look so full of shamed pleading that Julian
averted his eyes. He was well known here, and within
moments a server was at his side, a tall, lugubrious man
with dark eyes, creased at the corners. Joe had been a
comedian in a troupe touring the Realm. He harbored an
abiding devotion to Lindy that, as far as Julian knew,
had never become more than that, and when she'd left
the theater life, so had he. In a nod to the past, a black
feather had been tucked into the apron around his waist.
Like Julian, Joe was showing his respects to a fellow
actor.

"Joe." Julian touched the feather he wore. "A sad

day."

Joe nodded, the movement of his head the jerky bob

that'd once been his trademark, guaranteed to have an
audience roaring with anticipatory laughter as they
waited for the punch line. A lock of black hair fell
forward over his face. "He'll be missed."

They shared a moment of silence, then Julian

gestured at Pippin. "He's not eaten for a while. Maybe a
bowl of soup to start with?"

Joe studied Pippin with an experienced eye. "Milk

and bread first. If he keeps that down, he can have the
soup."

"I'm not a babe to be fed sops," Pippin muttered.
Generosity only went so far. "No, you're an

ungrateful brat who'll eat what he's given."

Joe snorted, not unkindly, as Pippin blushed hotly,

and turned to Julian. "And you? The usual?"

It would've been cruel to eat pie when Pippin was

eating mush. Julian sighed. "Soup."

Spoken from the Heart - 20

Not a huge sacrifice. He'd stumbled in here once,

with dawn still some hours away, his throat near closed
after a grueling twelve hours of rehearsal with a
perfectionist director. Mistress Lindy herself had slid a
fragrant, steaming bowl of broth onto the table with a
roll of bread so fresh from the oven that breaking it open
had released a cloud of warm, yeasty air. The pat of
butter had slid over the flaky surface and melted as it
went, leaving the roll rich and soft.

He'd fallen asleep and woken with the imprint of his

spoon on his cheek a few hours later.

Joe returned with a cup of milk and a slice of nutty

brown bread spread with butter and cut into fingers
before the silence between Julian and his guest could
grow awkward. Julian tried hard to hold back his grin at
the neat slices of bread, but failed. The smile faded
when he saw how Pippin's hand shook as he reached for
the milk.

"Use both hands," he advised, keeping his voice low.
Pippin's teeth dug into his lip, but he raised the cup

without spilling and drank from it with a painstaking
lack of haste that must've cost him dearly. A slice of
bread came next, and again Julian watched with pity and
admiration as Pippin bit neatly at the thin finger of bread
and chewed it before swallowing.

The taste broke Pippin's control. He moaned, the

sound uncomfortably close to ones Julian had heard --
and made -- during lovemaking, and crammed the rest of
the bread finger into his mouth, washing it down with a
gulp of milk. The plate and cup were empty soon after,
leaving a glossy shine of butter on Pippin's generous
mouth and long fingers.

"Feel better?"

Spoken from the Heart - 21

"I've never tasted anything half so good," Pippin

replied, with a simplicity that rang of sincerity.

"Hunger's the best spice, so they say." Julian settled

back in his chair. "Don't rush yourself, though. If you've
not eaten for a while -- how long has it been, anyway?"

"I had a mouthful of apple -- they threw the rest away

when they caught me. Not that I was running, because I
didn't think I'd done anything wrong."

"Of course not."
Pippin glared at him. "I'm not a fool! I know markets

are for selling goods, not giving them away, but this
apple was bruised and on the floor. I didn't think it
mattered -- it'd been trodden on!"

The unfairness clearly stung, and Julian, adjusting his

ideas in the light of the new information, couldn't help
thinking Pippin was right to feel aggrieved.

"And before the apple was yesterday when a woman

gave me some bread and cheese for digging a new hole
for her privy." Pippin's chin came up. "I'm no beggar. I'll
work for my keep."

"Admirable. How long have you been in the city?"
Caution darkened Pippin's eyes. "A while. Weeks."
"You're lying, but I won't press you. It doesn't matter

to me, after all."

Julian's ready acceptance of Pippin's reluctance to

share his story seemed to leave Pippin even more
suspicious, but that was no bad thing in Julian's opinion.
Country boys weren't necessarily naïve and innocent,
but they were often easily overwhelmed by the scale of
the city. Julian had been born here and he knew its ways
instinctively, but that didn’t mean he underestimated its
dangers.

"Ah," Julian said, with an appreciative sniff. "Soup."

Spoken from the Heart - 22

His bowl was filled with a thick, meaty stew, tangy

with peppers and onions. He'd need to chew mint for an
hour to leave his breath fresh enough for Marcus' liking.
Pippin's held chicken broth, light and nourishing, shreds
of meat giving it some body. It was hot enough that
Pippin was forced to drink it slowly, and by the time he
had, his face had lost its pallor.

"I'm in your debt, sir." Pippin set his spoon down and

made a pass at a bow. It wasn't entirely successful from
a seated position with a table in the way. "You must tell
me how I can repay you. Is there a task I could perform?
Do you need--"

"A privy dug? No, I thank you."
"There must be some way I can repay you." Pippin’s

persistence was charming, with the potential to become
irritating.

Julian waved in dismissal. "'An act of kindness

brightens the dullest hour.’" He raised his eyebrows.
"Sir Cyril? From Mountains and Molehills? Not familiar
with it? It’s one of Werskin’s wittiest comedies, in my
opinion."

"It’s a play?" Pippin sounded doubtful enough to

have Julian’s mouth hanging ajar until he collected
himself. Showing surprise was uncouth. Showing one’s
back teeth to the audience, unforgivable.

"Why, yes, it’s a play. Where you’re from, do they

not have a theater close by? Or do you make do with the
traveling troupes?"

He supposed the smaller villages and hamlets would

be too remote to make a trip to a playhouse feasible, but
few places were too small not to be on a troupe’s route.

"I’ve never seen a play or a troupe." Pippin shrugged

indifferently. "Why would I wish to see liars prance
about spinning falsehoods?"

Spoken from the Heart - 23

Julian cleared his throat. "Ah. You’re from the

Westerlings."

Pippin’s lips set mutinously. "You say that like it

marks me as a provincial lout with straw for brains. Yes,
I am, but I’m here, aren’t I? I left."

"So you did, but it seems you’ve brought some

baggage with you."

"Plays aren’t real," Pippin explained kindly. "They’re

stories at best, and the wise man deals in facts."

"Yes, well, I’m an actor," Julian told him with some

asperity, "and if I act, I eat, it’s as simple as that. I
entertain folk. I put a smile on their face, a tear in their
eyes, and a thought in their hollow, empty heads. Not
my words, no, but I breathe life into ink on paper, I
make characters who exist only in a playwright’s mind
live and stride the stage, if only for a few hours."

He paused and realized midway through his

impassioned speech he’d stood and raised his voice,
declaiming, not speaking. A patter of applause from the
tables around him had him bowing in polite
acknowledgement before he sank gracefully into his
chair.

Pippin was silenced, his eyes wide, the ready color

rising in his face once more.

"I’m sorry for overwhelming you with my

eloquence."

Pippin shook his head. "I’ve never met anyone like

you before. You’re an actor? That’s all you do?"

The incredulity in his voice was enough to make

Julian cast up his eyes. "Yes, I’m an actor. Currently
with the Pinnacle Theater, and we’re about to start
rehearsals for Silence Falls. You don't know it? No
matter. It’s a tragedy. Very epic. The stage can’t stand
empty while we rehearse, of course, so we’re also

Spoken from the Heart - 24

performing a comedy. I have a role in that, a trifling one
to allow me time to learn my lines for the tragedy. I
work long hours, I sweat, I labor--"

"I wager not as much as I did taking in the wheat

harvest last year with a storm approaching. I didn't see
my bed for two nights."

"You'd be surprised." Julian studied Pippin. "You

seem to have a glimmer of intelligence. Please don't
make me label you as stupid. We come from different
worlds, but if I promise not to make any of the
Westerlings jokes I'm sure you're bored to tears of
hearing--"

"They joke about us?" Green eyes went wide and

shocked.

Julian cursed himself, but even as he scrambled for a

way to retrieve the situation, he saw the amusement in
those green eyes and narrowed his own. "Neatly done.
Was any of your outrage and ignorance real?"

Pippin shrugged. "It's true I've never seen a play, but

my words belonged to my father, not me. I have nothing
against actors. How can I when I've never met one --
until now."

"I'm not used to being someone's first." The mild

innuendo seemed to pass over Pippin's head. He smiled,
a frank, friendly grin that kindled an answering warmth
in Julian.

"Still hungry?"
Pippin patted his flat stomach. "Yes, but I'll not

impose further on your generosity."

"I think I could stretch my generosity sufficiently to

buy you a pie to take with you." There was something
intoxicating about being the benefactor. Maybe this was
how Marcus felt -- no. His largesse came with a price

Spoken from the Heart - 25

attached. Julian wanted nothing but the comfortable
assurance that Pippin was well-fed, for today at least.

Pippin lowered his gaze to the table. "I wish…"
"What?"
"I want to do something to thank you."
"Some might say you already did." Pippin looked

puzzled. Julian sighed and tapped his mouth
meaningfully.

"Oh!" Pippin shook his head, the tousled locks of hair

falling into his eyes. Washed, his hair would be the color
of a copper penny. Cut by scissors, not hacked off by a
knife, and it would frame his face beautifully. "I didn't
choose that, and you didn't want to do it. I could tell.
You were just being gracious. It doesn't count."

"I wish I could think all my friends would see it in

that light."

"You wouldn't get into trouble?"
"For helping justice? No. For using your mouth as if I

was desperate for release -- for that, I'd get teased.
Mercilessly. If you wish to repay me, wipe what
happened between us from your memory."

"I'm sorry." Pippin's voice was a stifled mutter. "I

didn't realize how -- what an awkward -- I'm so sorry,
sir."

"It's done. Forget it. Please." Julian rose. "I'll leave

the price of a pie with Joe. He'll give it to you when you
leave, but for now, stay, rest a while. It's not too busy,
and they won't rush you out of the door."

"You're leaving?" Pippin swallowed and made a

valiant attempt to smile. "May fortune smile upon you."

"And you." Julian paused. "One thing. Your name.

What is it?"

Spoken from the Heart - 26

For a moment, he thought Pippin would refuse or lie,

but when he got his answer, it rang true. "Alex Martin."
Pippin glanced up at him. "I like 'Pippin' better."

Julian shook his head. "Let Pippin disappear," he

advised. "Welcome to the city, Alex Martin. May your
time here be happy and profitable."

He knew an exit line when he delivered it. Without a

backward glance, he made his way to the entrance,
leaving sufficient coin with Joe to ensure Pippin -- Alex
-- would be able to put food in his belly for a few more
days when the pie was a distant memory.

Joe weighed the coppers in his hand. "He seems a

likely lad, but he's not meant for the city."

"I can't drag him to the gates and send him home to

his mother," Julian said. "For all I know, what waits for
him back there is worse than what he'll meet here."

"The Westerlings are narrow-minded folk, but they're

not unkind." Joe pursed thin lips. "Of course, sometimes
a slap is easier to bear than being prayed over. They
honor the Lady to the letter there."

"You recognized his accent?"
"Hard to miss." Joe raised his eyebrows. "Your

theater needs a handyman to help build the new sets.
Duncan was in here earlier and mentioned it. Does the
lad know how to use a hammer and a saw?"

"How should I know?" Julian curbed the irritation in

his voice, unsure of its cause. Joe was being kind, and it
was ridiculous to feel fettered, as if invisible ties were
binding him to Alex. What he'd done had been a passing
kindness. To have it extended, to see the lad every day,
the blaze of hair catching the eye, would be…difficult.
"Mention it to him, if you wish."

"Me?" Joe's eyebrows rose in a nicely calculated

show of surprise. "I could, but if you were to take him

Spoken from the Heart - 27

along there tomorrow and introduce him to Duncan, well,
you're someone who is someone. He'd get the job sure as
snow in winter."

"Not if he doesn't know what he's doing. And save

the flattery for someone more gullible than I. What did
you call my Lucius? Unconvincing and thin?"

"You were younger then," Joe told him. "It's a role

for an older man. In a decade, you'll play him again and
I'll weep at your death. For now, there's a boy in there
with his mother's milk still wet on his cheek and he
reminds me too much of my sister's son for me to let
him walk out of here alone."

Julian glanced back into the dining room. Alex was

standing now, a serving maid fluttering around him, a
puzzled, pleased smile on his face as he tried to answer
her sallies. He was tall, handsome, and he wouldn't stay
out of trouble for an hour.

With a sigh, he caught Alex's eye and beckoned to

him. Alex made a clumsy bow to the serving maid,
which had her giggling, then made his way to Julian.

"I have a question for you," Julian said, without

preamble. "A hammer, wood, nails -- you're familiar
with them?"

"Well, yes. On a farm there are fences to build, barns,

sheds, furniture… You wish me to build you something?
Gladly, sir." Alex looked eager to begin. Julian hadn't
realized how heavy a burden gratitude must be that Alex
wished to shed it so quickly.

"Not I." The eagerness disappeared, snuffed like a

candle. Feeling like a brute, Julian added hurriedly. "The
carpenter at the theater has need of an assistant. If you
have the necessary skills, I will take you there tomorrow
and introduce you to him. Duncan's a good man, though
his tongue's as sharp as his tools at times. Well?"

Spoken from the Heart - 28

Again the bow. "I'm grateful for your kindness." Alex

sounded subdued, not elated.

"As to that, you have Joe here to thank. It was his

suggestion, not mine."

"Oh." Alex gave Joe a smile as wide as his mouth

could stretch. "You're very good, sir. I thank you."

"No need," Joe said. "Something tells me you're not

afraid of hard work, and it's a shame not to give you the
chance to prove it."

A family entered, the children clamoring to be fed,

their parents looking harassed, and Julian tucked his
hand under Alex's elbow and steered him back out onto
the street with a farewell nod to Joe.

"This has been the strangest day," Alex said. "I

feel…I'm not sure how I feel. Will you tell me what time
I should meet with you, sir? And if you could tell me
how to get to the theater, it would be a kindness."

Julian smiled at him, a wry smile. "It might, but

leaving you to your own devices would most assuredly
not be. You can come home with me. If Duncan takes
you on, we'll find you lodgings, but until then, I prefer to
keep you where I can see you." He remembered Marcus
would be calling for him later and temporized, "Or at
least in a safe place. Come. We can go there now."

Alex pulled free of Julian's loose grip. "Sir, I've no

wish to seem ungrateful, but--"

"I sleep alone," Julian told him, guessing the root

cause of Alex's hesitation. "That is, I have a…I'm
involved with someone. I've no interest in repeating our
earlier encounter, trust me."

"Oh." For a moment, he fancied he saw a puzzling

flash of disappointment in Alex's eyes, but it passed.
"Then once again, I'm--"

Spoken from the Heart - 29

"If the words 'kind', 'grateful' or 'in your debt' pass

your lips again, I will demonstrate Alicia's scream of
anguish from A Rake and a Rogue. When done properly,
it's said to crack glass. I can't reach that high a note, but
I wager I could leave you with a headache."

Alex bit his lip. "I just don't know why you're being

so, so…"

"If it helps, neither do I. We can set the puzzle aside

for now, hmm?" Julian gave Alex's face a careless pat
and gestured down the street. "Come. It's not too far a
walk. I could afford a better neighborhood these days,
but I spend so much time at the theater that it suits me
better to be close to it."

And here he was among friends. Known, respected,

liked. Unlike Alex, Julian was content to stay with the
familiar.

Spoken from the Heart - 30

Chapter Three

Alex matched his steps to Julian's, sometimes forced

by the crowds to fall behind, but never losing sight of
Julian's dark head of hair. He was desperately tired, his
head pounding and his mouth bruised, but the food had
given him sufficient strength to make the walk less of an
ordeal than it would have been an hour earlier.

The city was around him, its sights and smells

assaulting him, its noise overwhelming, but when he
was close to Julian it went away, giving him a moment's
respite as he stared into that handsome face, the
expressions chasing over it like cloud shadows on a field,
the well-formed mouth so quick to smile or twist in a
grimace. Julian was all light and movement, his dark
blue eyes alive with interest in everything around him.
He dwarfed the city, reducing it to no more than a
background for him, a piece of scenery to pose against.

Alex had often pictured the city, lying on his back in

the hay, chewing a juicy apple, tired from a day's work,
but content enough. It had glittered in his mind's eye, the
buildings white and tall, the streets smooth underfoot.
He'd dressed the people in rich, bright colors, made their
faces smiling ones, their voices low and pleasant.

He'd been a fool.
The people here were like the ones back home. Some

were good-hearted, with time to spare for others, some
were wrapped up in worry, or indifferent, hard.

And though the buildings rose high, they were wood

and brick, not gleaming marble, and the city smelled. It
smelled worse than anything Alex's nose had
encountered, a thick miasma of too many lives lived too
close. The gutters were littered with refuse, the walls
stained with piss in every alley. He'd heard people talk

Spoken from the Heart - 31

of the new duke cleaning the place up in the years since
he'd succeeded his father, but on the evidence Alex had
seen, the duke had a mountain to shift with a teaspoon.

Still, it was impressive. He'd wandered past fountains,

water flying high into the air, rainbows dancing around
the jets, seen windows, glass windows, wide and clear,
and behind them a treasure trove of goods for the buying.
In Dellin, there was a store where a man could trade for
bolts of cloth or groceries, maybe a pretty piece of china
or a pair of fancy shoes for his lady. Alex had been there
once as a child and stood in front of the display of candy,
his mouth sagging open as he'd turned his penny in his
pocket and tried to choose between the brightly colored
pieces of sugar.

He'd thought that store as fine a place as the Realm

had to offer and here it would be relegated to a side
street, unremarkable, insignificant.

Here, horses drawing carriages swept by, the horses

fine-boned, their coats glossy, the carriages light as soap
bubbles. He'd seen one tricked out in silver, burning his
eyes in the sunlight, a lady inside it, her pretty, petulant
face bored. She'd fanned herself slowly as she waited for
the street to clear for her, diamonds glittering in her ears
and around her neck. Her skin had been as pale as
moonbeams, her hair a careless tumble of dusky curls
piled high on her dainty head.

She'd been the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen,

though it wasn't because she was as remote as the stars
that he didn't feel even a small prick of desire, only the
same admiration he'd have given a perfect white rose,
sweetly scented, its petals like white velvet.

Julian led him away from the clamor and down a

quiet street, wide enough for a carriage. Evidence horses
had been here lay in steaming heaps here and there, but

Spoken from the Heart - 32

Julian took care to cross the street where it was clear,
frowning when he reached the other side and saw that a
straw was stuck to his boot.

"Damn those cleaners," he muttered, removing the

straw and tossing it aside. "They're supposed to tend to
the street twice a day, but they pocket their wages and
leave the filth to mount."

The street didn't look that neglected to Alex, who

could see a boy with a bucket and spade toiling away at
the far end, but he wisely kept his mouth closed. He'd
heard his mother grumble like that, her hands busy, and
she'd never wanted comforting or correcting.

"Here." Julian gestured at a narrow slip of a house,

the bricks a dark red, the door painted glossy black. "I'm
so rarely at home that I don't require a mansion. This
suffices."

"It's finer than any place I've seen," Alex said

diplomatically. In truth, his father's farmhouse was
much larger, but that was made of wood, with tiny
windows, the glass thick and close to opaque.

"Really?" Julian affected a casual unconcern, but

Alex could tell he was pleased. "Well, come in."

Alex stepped over the threshold, assailed by

nervousness again. He'd heard tales of the city and the
wickedness to be found there. It was ironic that so far,
the wickedest person in it seemed to be him. One
apple…and they'd been willing to cut-- His thoughts
shuddered away from the penalty he'd avoided and the
one he'd endured. Julian had helped him and Alex's
instincts told him Julian was to be trusted, even though
he sensed there was a gulf between them when it came
to understanding each other.

The house smelled comfortingly of bacon and bread,

though it was stuffy, as if the windows and doors rarely

Spoken from the Heart - 33

stood open. A formal room lay to the right of the
entrance, full of couches upholstered in deep blue
brocade and low, wide tables of redwood patterned in
some way, intricate lines of black swirling over them,
but Julian led Alex through a doorway to the left, into a
shabbier, infinitely more comfortable parlor. Here, the
chairs and couch were a mismatched collection and the
fireplace was gray with ash, invitation cards and letters
littering the mantelpiece above. A bottle that had once
held wine lay on its side on a table cluttered with goblets
and playing cards, tossed down as if the game had ended
abruptly.

"I had some friends over," Julian explained,

following Alex's gaze. "Though I can't blame them for
the disorder. It probably looked worse before they
came."

"I like it," Alex said, with more sincerity than before.

His mother had kept the farmhouse rigidly neat, and the
relaxed, homely clutter Julian lived in would have
shocked her. Alex found himself envying the freedom it
represented.

"Well, let me show you around."
The tour was necessarily brief because the house was

small, but Alex still found himself marveling at the
pump in the kitchen -- no buckets to carry! -- and
fascinated by the fitted chamber pot in a small room
under the stairs, a little cramped, but fresh-smelling
enough.

"I had heard of them, but never quite -- where does it

all go?"

Julian shrugged. "Down a pipe into the sewers, and

from there, Lady only knows! Why would you care? I
do know the bath water is directed down the same pipe

Spoken from the Heart - 34

to keep it fresh. Speaking of which, a bath wouldn't
come amiss for you."

Baths were taken in the stream when it was warm

enough, dunking down as the water rushed by, shivering
as he raced back to the house, his balls shrunk tight. In
winter, he did without, settling for a skimped wash of
the places that showed until his mother took issue with
him. Then he had to drag in the wooden tub late at night
and set it before the kitchen fire to be filled with buckets
of cold water and a single kettle of boiling water to take
the chill off. It was a laborious task, and he always
ended up chilled to the bone and with a splinter or two
in his behind, the strong-smelling soap leaving his skin
itchy.

"I thank you, but I bathed not a week ago." If falling

into a stream counted, and in Alex's mind it most
certainly did. He'd twisted his ankle on that
treacherously mossy stone, too.

"So polite. So grubby," Julian mocked. "You'll be

between my spare room sheets tonight, and I trust you'll
sleep soundly, but not until you've scrubbed the stink of
the streets off you. I'll see about getting you something
to wear, too. Your clothing marks you as a country boy,
and that's not the impression you wish to give."

"It's what I am." Alex knew he sounded sullen, but

though he'd quickly realized his clothes were outmoded
and made people stare, they were all he had left of home.
Considering he'd left it without a backward glance, it
was astonishing how protective of it he felt now.

"It's what you were," Julian corrected him. "See, the

bath is through here."

Alex put his head around the door and blinked in

surprise. A metal tub, big enough to lie down in, the

Spoken from the Heart - 35

sides smooth, was so much more than he'd expected that
he became resigned to the idea of bathing.

"The hot water comes from here." Julian indicated a

large covered pot with a pump handle over it, set on top
of a small stove. "See? You open the tap at the bottom
and it runs through this pipe and into the bath. Just make
sure to refill it and replace the cover."

The simplicity and ease of the arrangement was

appealing, but the thrifty side of Alex was shocked at
the idea of wasting wood or coal to keep water
constantly hot. It was true; people in the city did have
money to burn.

"I'll leave you to bathe and see if I've got anything

clean you can wear." Julian eyed him appraisingly. "Yes,
you're far wider in the shoulders and taller, but I'm sure I
have something that will do until we can go to a tailor."

"A tailor?" Alex shook his head. "Sir -- Julian -- I

can't allow you to--"

"You can repay me from your wages," Julian told

him. He chucked Alex under the chin, a careless,
friendly caress. "I don't do things by half. It's not in my
nature. If I'm sponsoring you, why, you need to be a
credit to me. Which means you need to be clean, not
dressed in rags, and we must see about a haircut."

"My hair is fine." Alex put his hand up to make sure

it was still on his head. Julian was so quick to act he half
expected it to have been shorn when he wasn't looking.

"It will be."
Julian left before Alex could voice his objections, and

with nothing but an empty room to listen to him, words
spoken aloud seemed pointless. He turned to the bath
and, after cautiously experimenting with the tap, stood
watching it fill. When the hot water was used up, he
pumped in cold, letting it gush into the bath to temper

Spoken from the Heart - 36

the heat. Steam rose, pale fronds of it curling through
the air, and he sniffed the damp air, finding it to be
spiced with perfume, a pleasant, vaguely masculine
scent of bergamot. He traced the scent to an amber-
colored piece of soap in a dish, a soft cloth beside it, and
ran his finger over the slick surface of the soap before
bringing it to his nose. Beside the faint smell of oranges,
it reminded him of Julian. Alex bit his lip, remembering
the feel and taste of Julian in his mouth, the clean musk
of Julian's skin, the supple hardness of his cock.

Slowly, not allowing himself to lose the memories,

he undressed, letting his clothes fall to the stone flags of
the floor, and stepped into the bath.

The heat of the water made his skin flush and prickle,

the novelty of the sensation overwhelming. He lay back,
stretched out his legs and moaned aloud, the sensuous
surge and lap of the water like a light caress. His cock
stood up swollen, urgent, and he traced its length with a
fingertip, absently aware of his lust, but more occupied
with the events of the day. His weariness was bone-deep,
his stomach still growling, but he was still conscious of
a deep indignation at the treatment he'd received. Fear
had choked him when he'd realized what penalty he
could face. To lose a finger…he couldn't imagine the
pain, but he kept trying to do just that. His hands curled
into fists and he struck the surface of the water, a sob
rising in his throat.

The humiliation of his ordeal was too fresh to

contemplate without shying away from it. Men, foul-
smelling, rough, using his mouth with so much
contemptuous amusement, not seeing the joke, if there
was one, was pointed at them. Julian had seen that the
shame was to be shared equally and had still bared his
flesh and lowered himself to the same level as the street-

Spoken from the Heart - 37

filth. Gratitude, profound enough to make tears come to
his eyes, had Alex vowing to repay the man as soon as
possible in whatever way Julian wished.

Even if -- but Julian had said he had no interest in

Alex as a bedmate.

Alex took a deep breath and shook himself free of his

sour thoughts. He was safe, he'd eaten, and he was
wasting this marvelous experience. He sank back under
the water until his ears were full of echoes, and then
emerged from it, spluttering, and picked up the soap. It
lathered at once, leaving the cloth foaming and his skin
tingling after he'd scrubbed it clean. He even rubbed
some through his hair, his fingers finding dense tangles
his mother would have attacked ruthlessly with a
wooden comb.

He was experimenting with the feel of a soapy hand

around his cock, still hard, indifferent to his woes and
only concerned because it'd been days since he'd had
privacy enough to tend to its needs, when Julian walked
in, holding a towel.

"Here, this one's clean."
Alex squeaked, his hand flying away, then returning

as he tried to cover the evidence of his activities. It
didn't work, not even when he used both hands and the
cloth.

Julian chuckled. "I'm sorry to have interrupted you."
"You shouldn't -- you should go!"
"Why? Because you're naked or because you're

hard?"

"Both!"
"Such a sweet innocent." Julian tossed the towel onto

the floor by the bath. "You've seen me, after all, and I
didn't blush. It's just skin. Actors tend not to worry about
it too much. Why, in Ballad of a Jester, I had six

Spoken from the Heart - 38

changes in one act and had to strip bare in the wings,
with no time to return to my dressing room. No one
cared." He crouched down by the bath and put his hand
on Alex's face, turning it so Alex had no choice but to
meet Julian's blue eyes. "You have nothing to fear from
me, I swear it. Believe that and do not insult me by
flinching and hiding." His gaze dropped, a grin
appearing. "Not that you're having much success. You're
too well-endowed for a washcloth to be effective."

Alex set his teeth, willing his blush to subside. "I'm

not -- I know that I'm --" He cast up his eyes and moved
his hands away, baring himself. "If you wish to look, as
I did at you, then look."

Julian shook his head and rose to his feet. "I've never

liked staring through glass at what I cannot afford, and I
think you'd cost me dearly. Finish what you started. I've
left you some clothing outside the door."

He left before Alex could find the words to keep him,

but finishing what he'd begun was out of the question.

Dressed in a forest-green jerkin and black breeches,

his feet bare, Alex sought Julian out after his bath. He
found his host in the main room, reading a note, a frown
creasing his forehead.

Julian turned to Alex. "This was just delivered and it

seems my company is required elsewhere tonight."

"Oh. Then you'll want me to leave. Do you know of a

place where I would be permitted to sleep? A park,
maybe, or the side of the river?" Alex quelled his panic
at being left alone. It was foolish. He'd slept outside on
his journey to the city, rolled up in a blanket, the night
around him potentially filled with all manner of dangers
and never given them a thought. The irritating jab of a
stone of twig, the threat of rain, and his empty stomach -
- those had seemed far more important.

Spoken from the Heart - 39

Everyone knew wolves didn't come this far south,

anyway.

"Why would you do that? I said you may use my

spare room." Julian chuckled. "Oh, you're wondering
how I could be so carelessly trusting as to leave a
stranger here to ransack my belongings and steal
whatever he can carry away."

"I would never--" Alex took a deep breath. "You

know I wouldn't do that, but, yes, it does seem…"

"Sweetheart, I've nothing worth stealing and five

minutes searching would show you that. The furniture is
too heavy for you to carry off, my clothes don't fit you
well -- though black and green are delightfully dramatic
on you, I must say -- and I'll be gone only a few hours."
Julian shrugged. "Besides, I'm under the protection of
Lord Marcus and everyone around here knows that. He's
not a cruel man, but he's possessive of his belongings. If
anyone was to steal from me or injure me, he'd take
steps to make them regret it."

"Oh," Alex repeated. "Is he your, uh, your…"
Julian gave him a cheerful grin. "He's sponsored my

career and in exchange I smile up at the box where he
sits, unless his wife is with him, though she's not fond of
the theater or me, so that's rare. I also make sure my
mouth and ass are available, along with my company,
when Marcus is in the mood to be rebellious."

The arrangement shocked Alex, but he took care not

to let his disapproval show. "She knows about you and
she doesn't mind?"

"She's not interested in bedsport these days. Not with

Marcus, at least. They have three sons and a daughter --
or the other way around, I care not -- so the succession
to the title is safe. Lady Rose, it's said, breathed a sigh of
relief after delivering her last babe, and locked her

Spoken from the Heart - 40

bedchamber door. If she opens it to the occasional
handsome footman, she does it discreetly, and I'm only
an actor, after all. If Marcus was dallying with one of
her friends, she'd care, but me? No. I prove what
dreadful taste Marcus has and how impossible he is to
live with. I'm very useful to them both."

"I can't imagine anything so... " Alex ran out of

words, but rallied. "Should you be telling me this?"

"Well, it's common knowledge among--" Julian

paused and gave Alex a charmingly rueful smile. "No.
No, I should not. Ignore me. Actors aren't known for
their discretion, and I'm going to talk myself into trouble
one of these days. Lord Marcus is a happily married
patron of the arts who's kindly extended his interest in
general to include my career in particular. 'Let that stand
as the truth and let falsehood and rumor sit where they
may.'"

Alex was learning when to spot the moments when

Julian borrowed words. His voice became resonant and
his body slipped gracefully into a dramatic pose. "Is that
from a play as well?"

Julian nodded. "Treacherous Night. It could be due

for a revival, but the public lost interest in political
dramas. With the new duke, though, hmm... Maybe."

"I've heard about the duke," Alex said, determined

not to seem completely ignorant, though the duke's
power didn't extend as far as the Westerlings, so the
news he was the new ruler of Sorrent had been greeted
with a shrug or a grunt for the most part. "Is it true he
made his guard dress in black for a week when his cat
died?"

"Indeed it is. Dear little Stripes. The brute scratched

Marcus once, and he had to smile through his teeth and
pet the creature." Julian flung his arm around Alex's

Spoken from the Heart - 41

shoulders. "We've hours to pass before I need to dress
and leave you. Why don't we get a drink and you can tell
me all about yourself. Every detail."

Flattered, if uneasily aware there was little to tell,

Alex accepted a tankard filled with cider strong enough
to make his head swim. His mother made apple juice,
but never allowed it to ferment. The smell and taste were
familiar enough, but the mellow happiness that followed
was new.

He found himself babbling, his hand on Julian's arm,

as he tried to spin his story into something worth hearing.
After a while, smiling to himself, Julian left the room
and returned with a plate of cheese sandwiches, the
bread lacking the nutty taste Alex was used to, but fresh
enough, the cheese sharp and strong. Somehow, the
cider in his glass became water, cool enough to be
refreshing, and the room steadied.

"Am I drunk?"
"You were getting that way," Julian replied. "I forgot

your belly was still mostly empty. Forgive me. So, your
father wanted you to marry?"

"I think he knew it wasn't likely that I would. Father

was willing to let me work a field and keep the profits,
though the land wouldn't have belonged to me, of
course."

No one split up a farm. Land was precious and went

to the firstborn, in this case Alex's sister, Larissa. Alex
would only get land of his own if he married a firstborn,
and they were so sought-after that even the plainest,
most foul-tempered had their choice of partner.

"It sounds dull but safe. No one caught your eye?"
Alex shrugged. "Not really. And to live and die

within a stone's throw of my father's farm…no. I could
not. So I took my leave of them and set off for the city."

Spoken from the Heart - 42

"With no coin? No belongings?"
Alex smiled sourly. "I had both when I set out, but

the road is hard on the trusting. My money was stolen
one night as I slept in the common room of an inn, my
pack taken from me by a river I crossed when it was too
high. I was lucky it took only my spare clothing, not my
life. That was some ten days ago. I've lived on rabbits
and berries ever since, until I reached the city, that is."

"It's a month's journey to the Westerlings on foot,"

Julian mused. It was longer than that to Alex's home, but
Alex didn't correct him. People never seemed to realize
how big the Westerlings were. "You've come a long
way."

Alex yawned, sleepiness overtaking him like a wave.

Outside, the sky had darkened and he was used to going
to bed early to save on candles. Julian had lamps, not
candles, giving off a blaze of light, steady and golden.
"Mmm. Long way. Don't want to go back. Might go
south. S'warm down there."

"Your skin would fry and the sun would burn out

your eyes." Julian stroked Alex's hair, his fingers gentle.
"It's an inhospitable land. This city is by far the best
place to live in the Realm."

"Have you traveled far yourself?"
Julian laughed, pushing back his dark hair with an

impatient thrust when it fell into his eyes. "Lady, yes!
From one end of the Realm to the other when I was a
journeyman actor in a troupe. I've sweated in the south,
with the sand of the desert in my teeth, the stage gritted
over with it, and in your own land, with the faces in the
audience suspicious and applause scarce as smiles. I've
performed before nobility and peasants, forgotten my
lines and been beaten soundly for it, gone on stage with
my head pounding from fever or my gut boiling from

Spoken from the Heart - 43

eating spoiled meat. I've been rich, I've been poor, and
my head's crammed full of words."

"It sounds exciting." Alex yawned again, wider than

before, his jaw cracking. He gave Julian an apologetic
look. "I'm sorry. I'm just so tired."

"Of course you are. I'll need to be leaving soon, so

why not take yourself to bed and I'll see you in the
morning."

Julian made everything so simple. Alex used the

chamber, drank another cup of water to take care of his
dry throat, and followed Julian up the staircase to the
two bedrooms, a lamp of his own swinging in his hand.

His room was small, the sloping ceiling by the

window making him duck, though it was inches higher
than his head, but the bed was wider than he was used to,
the covers clean and soft. He folded his borrowed
clothing carefully and set it atop a chest at the foot of the
bed, then turned out the lamp.

His bed greeted him like a friend, and the cider made

his passage into dreams a swift one.

When he woke some hours later, it was to confusion

and terror. He'd dreamed of the square, the men
surrounding him, all clamoring for his mouth and more,
the guard smiling and stepping aside. Rough hands had
grabbed and mauled his flesh, and he'd experienced the
pain of being entered, split open, broken. He gave a
strangled gasp, his heart pounding, his skin wet.

He fought free of the hot, damp sheets and sat up,

glancing around him wildly in search of something
familiar before he remembered where he was.

With Julian. He sighed, the tension leaving him, and

passed a trembling hand across his sweat-wet brow.

He was with Julian. Safe.

Spoken from the Heart - 44

The house was quiet, but outside Alex's window, the

city was still awake. Close by, a dog barked a warning at
a crowd of people passing by, their voices overly loud
and rough with drink, and beyond that was the hum of
the city itself, a ceaseless buzz, a hive of people,
restlessly, aimlessly moving. Exhaustion -- and the cider
-- had helped Alex to fall asleep, but he wondered if he'd
ever get used to the noise outside. It filled his head,
pushing out thought.

He went over to the small window, opening it and

breathing in the warm night air. It stank, the whole city
did, but it was fresher than the air in his room, ripe with
his fear. He breathed in deeply, a stray breeze playing
over his bare skin, cooling it. The moon had risen, the
Lady riding the skies, silver-white, serene, illuminating
his view with a soft, pearly light. A line or two of a
children's verse ran through his head. Ladylight, soft and
bright, shine down on me tonight. Bring me wishes,
bring me smiles, light my steps along the miles.

The Lady had lit his journey, but he'd clung to the

shadows. They'd felt safer.

His room looked out onto a small garden that was

overgrown with weeds from the little he'd seen of it,
backed by an alleyway leading behind the houses. On
the other side of the alleyway, the pattern was repeated;
another row of gardens, another row of houses. He could
smell cut grass and compost, the homely scents leaving
him melancholy. Someone nearby clearly took better
care of their garden than Julian. Alex had left the farm
vowing never to turn another shovel of earth, pick an
apple, or weed a field, but in that moment he wanted to
plunge his hands deep into the living soil and let it dirty
his hands in an honest way, dirt he could scrub away
under a pump.

Spoken from the Heart - 45

The bath had left his skin clean, but he couldn't scour

away the taint of being used. He put his fingers to his
lips, bile rising as he remembered the second man,
whose cock had been dark with grime, a louse crawling
out of the thick thatch of reddish hair surrounding it.
The guard had grabbed his hair and forced him to open
his mouth, and the revulsion he'd shown had made the
man before him laugh, a snickering, jeering chuckle.

He stuck his head out of the window, desperate to

avoid throwing up, and shuddered his way through a
paroxysm as his body attempted to void itself of
memories as well as the contents of his stomach.

When it ended, he sank to the floor, leaning back

against the smooth, cool plaster, and brushed
impatiently at the tears trickling down his face. Baby
tears. He was a grown man, too old to find refuge in
crying or whining.

He bit his lip, wondering if he was still alone in the

house. He really needed to piss again, but he didn't want
to disturb Julian. With no way to relight the lamp, he
couldn’t search for a chamber pot under the bed by
anything but touch, and his groping fingers encountered
nothing but dust and the light, clinging brush of
cobwebs.

Julian's housekeeping left something to be desired,

but Alex was in no mind to be critical of the man.

As noiselessly as possible, he opened the bedroom

door and peered out. Silence greeted him, silence and
darkness. The door to Julian's room stood ajar.

Not troubling to dress, Alex scampered down the

stairs, heading first to the kitchen for water to rinse his
mouth of the foul taste clinging to it. It felt odd to drink
when his need to piss was gaining intensity, but he
gulped the water down until it was all he could taste, and

Spoken from the Heart - 46

then relieved his more pressing need in the room under
the stairs.

He was tired, but the garden drew him more than his

bed. He walked through the kitchen into the tiny
passageway Julian used to store all manner of oddments
and slid back the bolt on the door leading outside. He
hesitated, aware of his lack of clothing. Something soft
brushed his arm, and he jumped and then smiled at his
fears. A cloak hanging from a peg on the wall, no more
than that, a sign, surely, that the Lady wanted him
outside where she could see him. He wrapped the cloak
around him, marveling at the quality of the finely woven
cloth, light, yet warm, and stepped out into the walled
garden.

He was as ignorant of cultivated flowers as Julian

probably was, but herbs were useful and his mother's
kitchen garden had been full of them -- wandering
tendrils of leafy green mint, rosemary growing in tall
spikes, a dozen others that she'd used to flavor and
preserve their food. He could smell mint now and
guessed at some point the tangle of green on either side
of the narrow brick path had been a cultivated garden,
producing vegetables for the household. He walked a
few yards down the path, the bricks uneven under his
feet, moss furring the cracks, and bent down to
investigate what looked like…yes, it was! Rhubarb
stalks, the giant leaves floppy, the stalks rising up stiffly,
full of sour, mouth-puckering juice. In daylight, their
mottled red and green stalks would please the eye, but
for now he let his fingers trace the smooth covering, his
mouth watering.

Not his to pick…even if he suspected Julian would

leave the rhubarb to soften and droop then rot into the
soil. He'd learned his lesson.

Spoken from the Heart - 47

Maybe he could ask Julian's permission to harvest it

and try his hand at a pie. He'd never made one before,
but he'd watched his mother deftly roll and cut dough
and it didn't look difficult.

The garden was some twenty strides long, no more

than that, a tiny patch of land, but he could feel his
optimism return just from touching something living. It
was a timely reminder that even in the city the earth
could thrust up strong green fingers, breaking apart the
stone.

A bench stood under a cherry tree to the right of the

path. Alex sat down on it, after brushing aside a few
pink and white blossoms that clung to its surface. Spring
had turned to summer. He'd left the farm at the busiest
time, something that had put a dour, angry frown on his
father's face, but there had been no attempt made to stop
him.

It wasn't the Westerling way to hold someone against

their will -- but Alex wished there'd been a single tear
shed, a word or two of regret. He'd tried to be a good
son. It wasn't his fault that he was weak when it came to
the lure of a book, turning the pages eagerly when there
was -- always -- something better he could have been
doing.

"You waste precious hours and candlelight," his

father had told him, striking the poetry book from Alex's
hands and sending it tumbling to the floor, the pages
crushed and the spine broken. "Have done with such
foolishness. If you've a mind to be a scholar, help me
with the accounts. Your writing's neat enough and you're
good at sums."

Alex had gathered the book in his hands, loose pages

slipping through his fingers, his anger bright and hot as
the fire he'd been reading next to. He'd answered meekly

Spoken from the Heart - 48

enough -- he was a man grown, but his father would not
hesitate to drive his point home with the sharp smack of
his belt across Alex's back if provoked -- but it was then
that Alex had decided to leave.

Better to risk the unknown than stifle under the

deadly boredom of the certain.

He leaned back against the tree trunk and jumped for

the second time when a cat appeared from under a
currant bush, winding its way between his legs, as black
as the sky above, one ear torn. He reached down and let
it sniff his fingers, then tried to stroke it. A hiss and the
flash of a paw, claws unsheathed, warned him not to
take liberties.

Alex liked cats, always had. The barns at home were

full of them, existing on scraps and mice, tolerated as
useful. His mother picked out a likely mouser from a
litter and kept it inside until it grew too old to hunt, but
even the house cat wasn't given a lap to sit on. He'd
petted them in secret, loving the ecstatic rumble of their
purr, so uncomplicatedly happy. He coaxed the cat
closer with soft words and, when it was used to him,
picked a long blade of grass to tease it with, both of
them enjoying the game.

Eventually, he was permitted to stroke the rounded

head and tickle it under its chin. He didn't try to pick it
up. Likely it had fleas, for one thing, and if the cloak fell
apart, he didn't care for the idea of those claws digging
into his cock or balls.

A jaw-breaking yawn reminded him he needed sleep.

He stood, bowed gravely to the cat, and went back
inside. Halfway up the stairs, he became aware he was
no longer alone in the house, and froze. Low voices,
interrupted by warm laughter, were coming from Julian's
bedroom. He should be able to return to his own room

Spoken from the Heart - 49

unremarked if he was careful, but there were squeaking
floorboards to negotiate and closing his door would
require a steady hand.

Swallowing his nervousness, he tiptoed to the top of

the stairs and glanced at Julian's door. It was closed,
light spilling out underneath it. Alex's bedroom door had
swung shut, and Julian would've assumed Alex was
inside, fast asleep, when he walked past with his lover.

With sweat pearling his brow, Alex eased open the

door to his room and slipped through, closing it with a
click that sounded like a hammer blow to his ears. He
lost his nerve and scrambled between the sheets,
choosing speed over silence.

He was sure the murmur from the room beside him

would break off, but no voice called out a question, no
knock came on the wall.

His heart calmed, his body relaxing, muscles loose

with relief. Safely in bed, he could think about sleep
again and the opportunities the next day would bring. A
theater…to go inside one, to become part of Julian's
world…

He smiled drowsily and sighed a long breath into the

softest pillow his head had ever lain on.

A moan, long, anguished, had him sitting bolt-upright,

the sheets clutched in his hands. He wasn't naïve. He'd
walked into the barn a few years before and seen his
brother grunting, red-faced and ridiculous, his pale
backside rising and falling as he fucked one of the
Seldon twins. Alex hadn't tried to find out which one,
but the sounds she'd been making had been like the ones
coming out of Julian's bedroom and it'd been obvious
she was enjoying Niall's attentions.

He lay down again, but sleep was impossible. Each

moan, each muttered curse, reached his ears through the

Spoken from the Heart - 50

thin wall as plainly as if he was in the bed with them --
and picturing that did nothing to cool his heated blood.

"You're so hot for me tonight, love," Julian said, his

voice husky. "Let me finish undressing at least before
you enter me."

"No. I need you--" There was a pause, then a rueful

laugh. "Very well. You know when you pout at me, I
can't resist you. Lady forbid your fine feathers are
creased, my peacock."

Alex frowned. Julian surely didn't pout like a child.

The idea of it offended him. And Marcus sounded
insufferably conceited, a typical noble, full of his own
importance.

"This jerkin is new," Julian said. "It was delivered a

full week ago, but I waited to wear it until I saw you."

"It sets off your blue eyes." Alex rolled his. "I agree,

though, the view without it is even better."

"As is the view I have." There was a soft, insinuating

purr to Julian's voice. "How would you like me, my
lord?"

Alex squeezed his eyes shut and put his head under

the pillow. He couldn't listen to Julian, his hero, his
savior, acting the whore in this way. If Marcus was his
lover, why wasn't it a meeting of equals? Julian sounded
so anxious to please, as if a word out of place would
cost him dearly.

Even with the pillow blanketing the sounds from the

next room, Alex could hear the unmistakable creak and
thump of the bed as the two men moved from speech to
action.

Julian would be lying on his back, legs spread like a

frog's, pinned and pierced. Or on his hands and knees,
maybe, offering his backside up, his head lowered
submissively.

Spoken from the Heart - 51

Alex clenched his teeth and skimmed his hand down

his body to slap and maul his cock, stiff again, Lady
take it. He punished it with his hand, squeezing his balls
roughly, the pain deserved. His unruly cock wouldn't
soften and retreat. Alex panted harshly against the sheet
and rolled to his back, letting the pillow slide to the floor.
Ignoring Julian's pleas for Marcus to take him, use him,
have him, Alex settled his hands at the crux of his
problem and gentled their touch a little, though the
strokes he administered were ruthless enough and the
palm cupping his balls was tight against warm flesh.

He took himself over, fueling his climax with safe,

well-thumbed memories that owed nothing to the day's
events or the scene playing out next door. His friend
swimming with him, pressing his cool, naked body
against Alex's playfully, his arms wrapped around
Alex's chest. A kiss between two men hired to help with
the harvest one year when the crop had been bountiful.
One tall, his skin burned dark by the sun, the other a
stocky redhead with a cheerful grin. They'd been talking
quietly in a corner of the barn, their work done, their
bodies close. Alex had been sent to tell them that supper
was ready, but the words had stuck in his throat as he
watched them move closer still and kiss, two tired men
leaning against each other, the kiss slow, easy.

The men had to know there was neither the time nor

the privacy to use each other right then, but they'd kissed
anyway and taken pleasure from it. Seeing it had left
Alex empty, aching to be filled, to be loved in that way.

He'd known then what he wanted, even if he dreaded

sharing his knowledge with his parents. It wouldn't have
mattered too much, not when he wasn't a firstborn, but
the Westerlings thought highly of men and women who
made strong, healthy babies. Those whose tastes lay

Spoken from the Heart - 52

elsewhere were tolerated, even grudgingly accepted, but
they were rarely held in high regard. They were
transients, leaving no legacy, contributing nothing to the
community but their own brief span of years.

Children were workers for the future, a safeguard for

the community. It was everyone's duty to create them,
care for them, and train them.

Just at the end, as his belly was painted with white,

his body shivering with pleasure, he shaped his mouth as
if it still held Julian's cock and his cock pulsed once
more, a final spurt leaving him.

Drained, panting, he lay on the creased sheets and

wished for a cloth with which to clean himself.
Eventually, he got out of bed and found the heap of
clothing destined to be washed, the clothes he'd been
wearing when he'd met Julian. His undershirt served
well enough as a rag, though his stomach was still sticky.

The encounter next door was over, and the two men

were talking. Alex sighed with frustration, fatigue
dragging at his temper as he got back into bed. He
wanted to sleep, and he wished Marcus would take
himself home to his wife.

"I have news for you." Marcus sounded uncertain

now, less the noble, more the man. "I don't think you
will be happy to hear it."

"Marcus? What's wrong, sweetheart?" Julian's voice

had changed, too. It was more natural, as if, the
encounter over, both men felt free to leave their assumed
roles behind them and be themselves. It should have
pleased Alex to hear Julian address Marcus with genuine
concern, not what he was beginning to realize had been
an assumed servility, but perversely he resented the
undeniable intimacy he was witness to.

Spoken from the Heart - 53

"I -- the duke has ordered me to --" Marcus faltered.

"I'm to lead the diplomatic mission to Serengine, and if
all goes well, and there's no reason to doubt it, I'll
remain there for a year to smooth over any issues. It's a
great honor, of course, and Rose is delighted, already
spending a small fortune on gowns, but…"

"You'll be gone from here for years." Julian's voice

was flat. "If you sail, it's a month's voyage, by land, two.
Once the winter snows fall, the mountains are
impassable and the seas too rough to risk it."

"It's -- yes. I will be."
"I see." Julian's voice was gentler now. There was a

pause, filled perhaps with a soft kiss or a sigh, and then
Julian said, "I release you, Marcus. All ties that bind, all
promises spoken."

The silence that followed seemed endless, but Alex

held his breath throughout it, caught up in the drama of
the formal renunciation.

"I accept and release you likewise," Marcus said

finally, his voice heavy with regret. "I wish it hadn't
come to this."

Julian sighed. "I suppose it was inevitable. You're far

too good at politics to be wasted here in the city where
everyone knows your skill and takes it into account. Let
Serengine be your new hunting ground. I'll wager it's
conquered by your charm inside a month, as I was."

"It took that long for me to charm you?"
Julian snorted with laughter, and Alex heard the bed

squeak. "It took one look and well you know it. So was
that our final tryst or do you have a farewell gift for me?
Mm, let me see, I think I've found something that would
suit the purpose excellently well…"

Alex sighed, retrieved the pillow from the floor, and

put it back over his head.

Spoken from the Heart - 54

Chapter Four

Julian woke to the enticing smell of bacon and a less

welcome beam of sunlight striking him full in the face.
He rolled to the side to escape it and felt the echo of
every urgent caress Marcus had bestowed on him. He'd
been used to the point of pain the night before, willingly,
yes, but the aftereffects were less pleasant than what had
come first.

Marcus' cock had been like iron inside him, the thin

film of oil coating it making each thrust drive deep. He'd
welcomed it, abandoned to a lust that was spiced with
loss, admitting finally to himself that Marcus had come
to mean a little more than a source of gold and the route
to even bigger roles to play.

He wasn't going to pine away, lost to melancholy,

garbing himself in somber hues, but he was going to
miss the man.

With a care he would only permit himself when he

was alone, he got out of bed and dressed in a robe. He
needed to bathe, to cleanse his body and ease the many
aches his flesh held, but he was starving.

As he walked down the stairs, it occurred to him to

wonder how much Alex had heard. Truth be told, he'd
all but forgotten the lad was there. Most likely, Alex had
been asleep, exhausted by his adventures. They hadn't
been that loud, after all…

One look at Alex's averted face, the tip of a scarlet

ear peeping through the red curls, and Julian abandoned
wishful thinking.

"Good morning, Pippin."
"I -- I wish you good day," Alex murmured. "I hope

you do not mind that I -- the bacon seemed close to

Spoken from the Heart - 55

spoiling, and I swear I have not -- this is for you, not me
--"

Julian crossed the kitchen and put his hand on Alex's

shoulder, swinging him around. "You're my guest," he
said, talking to the lad as he would a nervous child.
"What I have is yours, and you're right, the bacon needs
eating, but there's far too much for just one. Eat with me
-- and if you were to let some eggs join the bacon and
maybe a slice or two of bread as well…"

Alex smiled, his flush fading. "I can do that."
"I'll brew us tea. I have a blend of leaves from

Delcinte that's said to be the duke's favorite, though as to
that, I can't say. It's pleasant enough."

"Delcinte tea? Really? I've heard of it, but never tried

it."

Julian tried not to let his surprise show. Tea was no

longer the luxury item it'd been in his grandfather's time.
Trade treaties had brought the quantity imported up,
with a corresponding reduction in price. "Never?"

Alex turned back to the frying pan, deftly flipping a

sizzling strip of bacon with a fork. "In the Westerlings,
we use only what we have within our borders. We don't
like to rely on outside crops or merchants to provide
what we need. We tried to grow tea, but it needs a hot,
damp climate, and for us, when it's hot, it's dry. We do
steep herbs and dried flowers to make country tea, of
course."

Julian grimaced. He'd tasted country tea on his travels

with the troupe, and no matter how much each seller had
sworn by his recipe, it'd always tasted like wet grass
smelled.

"Well, I can't start my day without a cup of tea -- real

tea -- and if you make the food, I'll brew us a pot. Here,
let me get you the eggs…"

Spoken from the Heart - 56

They were at the stage where their plates were close

to empty and the teapot down to its dregs when Julian
broached the subject of the night before, choosing
bluntness over tactful evasions.

"Did we disturb your sleep?"
"What? No, of course not." Too late, Alex added,

"That is -- you brought someone back with you?"

Julian rolled his eyes indulgently. Alex was so

transparent. "I shall have to teach you to dissemble with
grace. Yes, Lord Marcus returned with me for a while.
It's unlikely you'll ever meet him, though. He leaves the
city within a week or so on a diplomatic mission and
will be gone for a considerable amount of time. Last
night we said farewell."

He was aware he'd pitched his voice to sound

desolate, lost, a fitting tone for a man who'd bid his
lover good-bye, but in the small kitchen, at a table
covered with crumbs from the fried bread Alex had
burned, it seemed excessively dramatic. The one role an
actor could not play well -- himself, natural, unaffected.

"You'll miss him?"
"Actually, I will." Julian abandoned the pose of a

bereft man. "He was charming, a skilled enough lover,
and generous when it came to supporting me. The rent
on this house has been paid to the end of the year, and
he's left some money with his banker for me in case I
have need of it. Not many men would be so thoughtful
at the end of a relationship."

He noticed the sour look on Alex's face and raised his

eyebrows. "What? You don't know the man, so why the
disapproving scowl?"

"Last night -- I heard you, yes. I tried not to, but I

couldn’t block out the sounds. He -- the way you were
with him…. You were like a stranger." Alex must've

Spoken from the Heart - 57

realized how ridiculous that sounded, given how short
his acquaintance with Julian was, because he sighed.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't presume."

"I suppose with Marcus I do -- did -- play to his need

to be the hero," Julian admitted readily enough. Like
many actors, he adored talking about himself. "He never
let it show, but he was conscious that I'm an actor and
he's a nobleman, and even between the sheets, he
wouldn't have cared for me forgetting that." He eyed
Alex, not offended but intrigued. "You think you know
me well enough after a few hours to tell when I'm not
myself? How do you know it wasn't with you that I was
playing a part?"

Alex shrugged, the gesture drawing Julian's attention

to his wide shoulders. Julian wasn't attracted to brute
strength and bulging muscles, but Alex's body was built
on finer lines, his recent adventures and his youth
lending a deceptive air of fragility to his tall, strong
frame. It was appealing. "I'm nobody, and you never
expected to see me again. Why would you trouble to
impress me?"

Julian grinned. "I'm an actor. My audience is before

me for only a handful of hours, but I still work to make
them love me -- or hate and fear me. I'm not sure who
the real Julian Melville is. I'm a wall covered in posters,
some torn and faded, some fresh and new."

Alex ran his thumb over the edge of the table, a slow

back and forth movement, his forehead furrowed in
thought. After a moment, he looked up and met Julian's
gaze. "You're a kind man," he said, with devastating
simplicity. "I know that much. If there's ever anything I
can do to repay you, then it's yours for the asking, but I
hope you'll allow me to show how grateful I am."

Spoken from the Heart - 58

Julian, his cock tender, his hole raw and throbbing,

wasn't in the mood to even think about lovemaking, but
he doubted that Alex was offering the use of his body in
any case. The lad had been clear on that point the day
before, and Julian couldn't blame him.

"You don't need to do anything but keep your lips

sealed about how we met and be a credit to me if you do
end up working at the theater."

"I need to do more than that." Alex held up his hands,

his palms uppermost. "There must be balance."

True enough. Julian didn't believe a man's life ended

when perfect balance had been achieved, as some did,
nor did he feel that happiness had to be paid for with
sadness, but still, balance was desirable when it came to
obligation, most certainly. "What did you have in
mind?"

Alex turned his head to the side, not by much, but

Julian was trained to notice the smallest shift in
expression, the slightest of inflections. Something was
making Alex feel nervous. "I walked in your garden last
night. It's in need of some weeding."

"It's in need of a scythe or a bonfire setting." Julian

shrugged. "I don't go out there much."

"You should!" Alex straightened, his eyes bright with

enthusiasm now that his small trespass had been
confessed. "It's small, yes, but there's room for you to
plant some vegetables, and you have herbs growing and
roses --"

Julian laughed, taken aback by the emergence of a

confident, chatty Alex and unreasonably charmed by the
change. "Sweetheart, you can do anything you like to it,
but don't expect me to do more than admire it." He held
up his hands, well-shaped, carefully tended. "These
hands don't mix well with dirt."

Spoken from the Heart - 59

"Soil isn't dirty."
"A nice distinction. Now finish your food. It's

ridiculously early, and I had planned to take a bath, but
let's get you over to the theater and see if Duncan still
has need of you. We'll stop at the barber I use on the
way."

Alex's mouth drooped, a worried frown replacing his

animated smile. "And if he doesn't need me? No." He
shook his head. "It's my problem, not yours."

"True enough," Julian said, wondering why it didn't

feel that way, "but we'll find something for you to do.
And I could always pay you to tame my garden."

Alex's frown deepened. "Not when tending it is my

way of repaying you," he objected. "I'd be more in your
debt, not less. And I wish you would present me with an
accounting for how much you've spent so far."

Julian felt a decade older than his twenty-eight years.

When had doing a kindness become so difficult? He'd
acted in a score of plays where mysterious benefactors
rescued starving orphans and the like. He didn't recall a
single one where the orphan turned around and
demanded an itemized bill.

"We can settle up later. For now, allow me the

pleasure of showing you around the best theater in the
city, and tonight, if you like, you can watch the play
from the audience. I have a small role in it, as I told you,
so I can't join you, but afterward, we can go out for
supper and I'll introduce you to some of my friends."

Alex's eyes widened, bewilderment vying with

pleasure. "I -- it all sounds wonderful, but, sir, you can't
want me to meet your friends."

"Some actors have enough conceit they think the

earth sings a chorus of praise when their shadow falls on
it, but I'm not one of them. My friends aren't all actors,

Spoken from the Heart - 60

though most of them are connected to the theater in
some way. Duncan, the man I hope you'll be working for,
is most definitely one of them." He held up his hands
and let them fall gracefully. "We stick together. I know
when I walk out on that stage that I wouldn't be there if
not for the men and women who built the sets, made my
costume, wrote the lines, sold tickets to the
audience…you take my meaning?"

After a short pause, Alex nodded. "I'll wash the

dishes."

"Leave them to soak," Julian said. "We have better

things to do."

"We do?"
"Well, of course. There's always something better to

do than clean dishes," Julian said, and watched a half-
guilty smile blossom on Alex's face.

Lady, the boy was attractive when he smiled! With a

sense of trouble to come when people other than him
noticed that, Julian stood and brushed a few crumbs off
his robe.

"To the Pinnacle," he said, as grandly as if he was on

stage. "After I dress, anyway," he added.

***

"Well, I need another set of hands, to be sure, but…"

Duncan rubbed his hand over his bearded chin and gave
Alex a doubtful look. To spare Alex's feelings, Julian
had sent him over to gawk at the view from the stage,
and Alex was peering out at the rows of seats, cushioned
in deep green velvet, and the boxes high up, seemingly
suspended in space, ornate with gold and pale cream
paint, curtains ready to be drawn discreetly tight in the
intervals. His haircut had made him even more attractive,

Spoken from the Heart - 61

judging by the looks Alex had gathered as they'd walked
to the theater, but he still lacked polish.

"He's young, but he's a hard worker, and he tells me

he's used a hammer and nails. He's from the Westerlings,
and say what you like about them, no one ever accused
them of laziness."

"True enough." Duncan was a tall man, broad-

shouldered, his arms as thick as many a man's thighs.
Brown hair, cropped short, and dark gray eyes were
ordinary enough, but nothing about Duncan made him
fade into the backgrounds he built. The closest he'd
come was after the death of his wife some seven years
before. Mary had been a slender, smiling woman, so
much shorter than her husband that when he kissed her,
he put his hands around her waist and lifted her up.
She'd been the head seamstress, and even now, costumes
she'd designed and sewed were still in use. Julian felt a
pang of loss every time he wore one and he'd known her
only for a year or two. He couldn't imagine how
poignant it had to be for Duncan, but the theater offered
a refuge as well as a reminder, and Duncan had never
looked elsewhere for work.

Mary and the child she'd carried had both died.

Tragic, but not uncommon, and most people had
expected Duncan to remarry. Julian doubted it would
happen. Now and then, overcome by melancholy,
Duncan would get drunk and sometimes, to his shame
and grief the next day, end the night in the arms of a
nightworker, usually buxom, experienced, and, Julian
imagined, chosen for her complete lack of resemblance
to Mary.

Julian had been Duncan's companion in both tavern

and nighthouse on several occasions, never attempting
to dissuade Duncan from his path because the man

Spoken from the Heart - 62

needed the physical release, if nothing else. If Duncan's
tastes hadn't been firmly set on women, Julian would've
willingly taken Duncan to his bed, but maybe it was
better this way. Their friendship was dear to him, and he
knew only too well that fucking complicated matters.

"Boy!" Duncan called, bringing Alex back to them at

a run. "There's wood and tools in my workroom. Take a
piece as big as my hand and show me what you can do
with it. You've got an hour."

Alex nodded and gave Julian a reassuring smile and

Duncan a small, respectful bow, before darting off the
stage.

"Eager," Duncan said, his voice a deep rumble. "Well,

we'll see." He tilted his head. "Isn't that your jerkin on
his back?"

Trust Duncan to notice that when in all the years

they'd been friends he'd never once commented on
anything Julian was wearing. "Mm. It's too faded for me
to wear, but it suits him well enough and his own clothes
marked him as a country bird far too plainly."

"If I ask how you met him, will you tell me the truth

or spin me a tale?"

"He's a new friend, nothing more, if that's what you

wish to know. Staying with me for the moment, yes, but
he has his own room."

"Does your other friend know?"
Duncan never had cared much for Julian's

arrangement with Marcus. He valued the marriage bond
too highly to approve of the casual way the nobles broke
it.

"Marcus? Oh, he doesn't know and never will." Julian

smiled, bright and hard, a glitter of a smile. "He released
me last night. He's off to see the world and won't be
returning for years."

Spoken from the Heart - 63

Duncan absorbed that exaggerated version of events

in silence, then grunted and turned back to his
contemplation of the set. It was a garden as seen through
the windows of a ballroom, the garden full of tall trees
with improbable gold and purple leaves that, lit by
lamplight, would seem to glow, ethereal, enchanting,
enticing the lovers of the play to become entangled in a
plot improbable enough that Julian often wondered why
it was such an audience favorite.

No matter. Ardent Hearts was popular and his small

role was one he could play without much thought,
leaving him free to learn his part in the somber,
emotionally draining tragedy that would replace it.

Silence Falls would make him, if he could carry it off.

If he could persuade Sampton to give him Galliero's role
of the king…

Shaking free of his doubts, he gestured at the set.

"What's wrong with it? You've been staring at it as if it
owes you coin."

"Last performance, that young idiot Selwyn put the

end of his sword through it and left the canvas flapping
in the wind from his flatulent ass."

"He did?" Julian peered at the canvas. "I can't tell."
"That's because I've fixed it," Duncan growled, and

stalked away as if he'd been mortally offended, not
praised.

Julian grinned and went in search of Master Sampton.

***

"No," Sampton said with finality. He folded his hands

over his ample belly and glared up at Julian from the
depths of his chair. It was brown leather, thickly padded
once, but the stuffing had worn thin over the years. For

Spoken from the Heart - 64

anyone but Sampton, it was probably uncomfortable as a
bag of nails, because the seat conformed so perfectly to
the shape of his backside. Not that anyone but the man
himself would dare sit in it. "You're perfect as Lord
Lenton. Too young to play the king."

"He's not some doddering white beard! That's the

point of it. He's tall, strong, at the height of his powers,
magnificent, adored…but there's a worm of madness
eating away at him, destroying from within--" Julian
realized his pacing walk was limited to three steps in
either direction -- the room was large enough, but
cluttered to the point where not an inch of wall was
visible -- and stood still. "I could do so much with it."

"In five years, maybe six, you might," Sampton

agreed. "Not now. Now you play the friend, and
Galliero's understudy gets his chance."

Julian threw back his head and clenched his jaw, a

trick he'd picked up playing Dittant, a brainless courtier
with a quick temper. "Patrick? Patrick Rathes? Patrick's
capable of many things, Master Sampton, but King
Henry? No! A thousand times no!"

"Let's hope you're wrong about that."
Julian whirled around, his hand narrowly missing a

stack of plays piled on a small table too rickety to be
used on stage. "Patrick, I mean no disrespect --"

Patrick waved dismissively. He was tall and good-

looking, with steady gray eyes and a shock of dark hair,
glossless and thick. Here, his face seemed to say, is a
man worthy of trust. Julian wouldn't have trusted Patrick
with the air he'd exhaled. "You're hungry for the part. I
understand. I forgive you." A grin, charming and
dismissive all at once, was aimed at him, and Julian
submitted to having his cheek patted with seeming
fondness.

Spoken from the Heart - 65

It stung.
"It's true I feel I could do it justice," he said, choosing

his words with care.

"Too young," Patrick said flatly, for once showing no

artifice. Julian liked him the better for it, though the
judgment stung more than the pat to his face.

"That's what I was just telling him," Sampton said.

He scratched at his jaw through the neat, pointed beard
he'd worn for as long as anyone could remember. There
was more gray in it now, but Sampton had lost none of
his vigor. When he rose from his chair to oversee the
production of a play himself, as he did from time to time,
the theater crackled with energy, every actor discovering
they could surpass their limitations. Julian respected him,
liked him for the most part, too. Even if at the moment
he was displaying the most annoying stubbornness.
"Though when he does play it, he'll do it better than you,
Patrick, and that's all the coddling you'll get from me,
Julian, so be off with you. Galliero's passing, Lady rest
him, has left me with more to do than you can imagine.
I've not seen my bed, my stomach's emptier than the
theater was last night, and Mistress Sampton is fussing
over me as if I'm a sickly child, not a grown man."

Julian found that hard to believe. Mistress Sampton

was a placid, genial woman. She'd stayed unruffled and
smiling when the roof of the Pinnacle caught fire one
summer during a storm, pointing out the rain that
followed the lightning strike would quench the flames,
but it wouldn't hurt if someone were to climb a ladder
and throw a few buckets of water on the blaze in the
meantime.

While Sampton had raged at fate, called on the Lady,

and waved his hands, she'd organized a line of people,
from Galliero himself down to the small boy who swept

Spoken from the Heart - 66

the stage, and set them to work passing full buckets up
to the roof and bringing the empty ones down. There
had been a gaping hole in the roof for a day or two, a
few feet square, but no worse damage than that.

"At least let me read for the part." Julian knew he was

begging, but this was too important for him to stand on
his dignity.

Patrick made an impatient noise. "Oh, for Lady's sake,

Julian. We all know you could make a passable job of it,
that's not in question. I'm sure the Garrick would be
delighted to have you in the role."

Julian drew an outraged breath. "The Garrick--"
"But for the Pinnacle," Patrick continued, his voice

cream-smooth as he bowed to Sampton with just a hint
of irony, "only the best will do, is that not correct,
Master Sampton?"

Sampton's eyes, a curiously light blue, like the

clearest of oceans, narrowed in thought. His gaze went
from Julian to Patrick, assessing them both. Julian felt
pierced by that gaze, but he held firm, confident in his
abilities, projecting that confidence at Sampton, a small
smile on his lips.

"Melville, you can understudy him," Sampton said

abruptly, jerking his head at Patrick, "and young Selwyn
can understudy you, though he's not ready for it, not
really. But no slipping soap into Patrick's food or
buttering the stairs when he's about to walk down them,
you hear me?"

It wasn't enough, but there was an inflexible set to

Sampton's mouth now that told Julian he'd gotten all the
concessions he would, for today at least.

With a bow to each man -- the one to Patrick was

carefully judged to be just a shade too brief -- Julian left
in silence, letting it speak for him.

Spoken from the Heart - 67

It was a good exit. He let that comfort him.

Spoken from the Heart - 68

Chapter Five

Alex smoothed his thumb over the surface of his

carving, testing it, judging it objectively, the way he'd
been taught. He thought he could feel the slightest
roughness, too slight to use the knife on. A dab of grit
paste and some assiduous polishing took care of it, and
he set the piece of wood down with a sigh, the breath
leaving him as if he'd been holding onto it as he worked.

"You're finished?"
Alex turned and saw Duncan filling the doorway, his

face impassive. "Yes, sir, I believe so."

Duncan walked across the workroom, his boots

scuffing through a layer of sawdust, soft and bright as
gold. Alex had planned to sweep it up, but he'd run out
of time. The workroom was neat enough, the tools well
cared for, the ones he'd used old enough to be
comforting in Alex's hand, but the floor was in need of a
broom's attentions.

Duncan followed Alex's gaze to the floor with his

eyes. "You can see I need someone to keep the place
how I like it." He raised his eyebrows. "Or is sweeping
up beneath you, boy?"

"No honest work is beneath any man, woman, or

child." How many times had his parents said that?
Finding himself repeating it gave Alex a flash of
homesickness, but he quelled it.

"True enough." Duncan came to stand by Alex, close

enough that Alex could smell him, a nose-twitching
mixture of paint and linseed oil, though under that,
Duncan's scent was pleasant enough, his skin freshly
washed.

Spoken from the Heart - 69

People in the city seemed to set cleanliness high.

Remembering the sensual pleasure of his first hot bath,
Alex wasn't inclined to disagree.

Without a word, Duncan held out his hand.

Swallowing his nerves -- he'd done good work, his best -
- Alex picked up what he'd carved and dropped it into
Duncan's cupped palm.

"A ball," Duncan said reflectively, turning it over in

his hand. "Interesting."

Alex held still, his gaze fixed on Duncan's face, his

hands behind his back where their trembling could not
be seen.

He needed this job. Needed the coin it would bring

him so he could repay Julian and keep his belly full.
More than that, though, he needed to belong in this new,
exciting, enticing world.

Julian's world.
The theater, dim, enclosed, private, its grandeur

muted by day -- he wanted to see it at night, lit up, alive,
the vast stage filled, and the seats before it occupied by
an expectant crowd.

And a play! He wanted to see a play so much, but

though Julian's generosity had ensured he would do that
very thing tonight, he wanted to be allowed behind the
stage as well as in the audience.

Anxiously still, mindful of his father's frequent

admonitions not to fidget, he waited for Duncan to speak.

Duncan's fingers, scarred from work, but deft and

strong, ran over the surface of the ball, much as Alex's
had.

"This is good work," Duncan said finally. "But let's

see if it can roll in a straight line, hmm?"

He bent and sent the ball across the floor, a smooth

flick of his wrist making its path true. The ball rolled

Spoken from the Heart - 70

silently, trundling across the dusty floor and leaving the
mark of its passage behind it.

It reached the door and a booted foot halted its

progress. Alex's breath caught in his throat. Julian. Tall,
handsome, a merry smile on his lips, his dull red jerkin,
embroidered in black, giving him an elegant air.

"If we're playing games, can't it be cards?" Julian

asked plaintively. "I'm good at cards."

"We're not playing, lad." Duncan jerked his thumb at

Alex. "Your boot's on his task piece."

"This?" Julian bent and straightened a moment later,

the wooden ball in his hand. "Oh."

"You don't like it?" Alex flushed even as he spoke,

keenly aware of how obvious he'd made his need for
Julian's approval.

"Oh, I do, I do! It's just…I expected you to carve

something else. An animal, maybe, or a, well, a…"
Julian shrugged and tossed the ball up, catching it neatly.
"Something else."

"That's because you're a fool who doesn't know a fine

piece of carving when he sees it." Duncan's frown was
fierce, but not directed at Alex. "Do you have any idea
how difficult it is to make a perfect sphere? How the
balance has to be exact, the surface smooth as silk? No,
of course not, you thumb-fingered dolt. Give the boy his
ball back and leave us be while I show him around. He
can start properly tomorrow." Duncan turned and
scuffed his hand across Alex's head in a rough, good-
humored fashion. The guard had done that to him the
day before, but he repressed the memory with no more
than an inward shudder. He would not think of that. This
was a new beginning. "And he can sweep my floor
today."

Spoken from the Heart - 71

"Gladly, sir!" Alex beamed at Duncan and then at

Julian, delight filling him. To be praised was sweet, but
to have work to do was sweeter yet.

Julian tossed the ball up in the air again, his

answering grin and swift wink broad enough that Alex
suspected some trick had been played on Duncan. He
recalled his father telling him some animals could never
be driven, only led.

"Take back your ball and behave yourself, Pippin.

When Duncan releases you, come and find me. I have a
rehearsal, though, so I can't promise that I'll be free for
some time. And do not, for the sake of your skin and
mine, interrupt if we're on stage."

The ball flew through the air and Alex caught it

without thinking, his hands recognizing what he'd made,
even after so short an acquaintance.

"He'll be fine," Duncan said. "Now go before

Cranston comes looking for you."

"A fate to be feared. See me quake. Duncan. Alex." A

bow that encompassed them both and Julian was gone,
leaving the room duller for his absence.

"Who is Master Cranston?" Alex asked Duncan

tentatively.

"Roger Cranston? He's the director for Silence Falls."
"I thought a Master Sampton--"
Duncan shook his head, no trace of impatience with

Alex's ignorance showing. "No, he owns the theater. He
oversees the plays sometimes, but mostly he deals with
the running of the place. I'll take you to him later and
have your name entered on the wage bill."

"Thank you." Alex realized he hadn't thanked

Duncan for his job. He opened his mouth to do so, but
Duncan interrupted him before he'd stumbled through
his first words.

Spoken from the Heart - 72

"I want work from you, lad, not thanks. Sweep the

place clean, and I'll show you the set plans for Silence.
They're going to take some skill to fashion, but between
us we'll manage. The old sets for it are no good. Mice
have nibbled them and the damp spoiled the paint.
Besides, I can do better." Duncan grinned. "I helped to
make them, and I've improved somewhat since then."

Alex smiled back shyly, but Duncan had already

moved away. A broom in his hand, the scent of sawdust
and paint thick in his throat, Alex set to work, humming
tunelessly under his breath.

***

Alex sank down into his seat, his face burning. He'd

tripped over three pairs of legs on his way along the row,
but that wasn't the cause of his embarrassment. He
craned his neck and took another look at the woman
who'd shown him to his seat, all smiles because she was
a friend of Julian's and seemed to have taken a fancy to
Alex, too, judging by the soft squeeze his hand had
gotten. She was talking to another patron, her pretty face
animated, her golden hair gleaming in the soft light.

And her legs exposed up to her---
Well, customs differed. At home, women and men

dressed simply, with an eye to comfort, economy, and
practicality. Women's dresses fell in straight, clean lines
to below the knee in summer, and in winter, when the
snows came, they added a pair of thick, warm stockings.
The younger girls, looking to attract a husband, would
wear a woven belt, subtly drawing the eye to a neat
waist or the gentle swell of their breasts, or lower the
scooped neckline an inch or two. The older women

Spoken from the Heart - 73

would tut and shake their heads, but with an indulgent
air.

The usher -- Polly -- was in what looked to be a

uniform of sorts, a black silk dress, the skirt wide and
falling to within a bare inch of the floor. White facings
on the bodice livened the dark color and were repeated
on the wide cuffs of the sleeves. To Alex's eyes, the
dress was fine enough for any lady, but for the hem,
which swooped up at the front, exposing Polly's legs to
mid-thigh. The front of the skirt was, to all intents and
purposes, missing and Alex could only picture his
mother's reaction were she to see it.

Reminding himself that only the ignorant condemned

without reason and only a child was permitted to stare
open-mouthed with wonder, he gripped the arms of his
chair and gazed fixedly at the stage.

His lips parted on a sigh. The deep blue velvet of the

curtain was like a door waiting to be opened and beyond
it lay, he was sure, a land of enchantment. Transfixed by
the prospect -- and the chance to see Julian in his
element -- Alex let his excitement show, a delighted
smile curving his mouth.

"Young man, might I trouble you to retrieve my

spectacle case?"

Alex turned to his left and found himself being

addressed by his neighbor, one of the people whose feet
he hadn't trampled, a slight, elderly gentleman, stick-
thin and dressed in formal wear so antique in design
even Alex realized its age. The man smelled of camphor,
but a few moth holes still showed here and there on his
black velvet jacket and the lace foaming at his throat
was yellowed, though crisp and clean.

A thin leather case had fallen to the floor between

them, and Alex, with a friendly smile, bent to pick it up,

Spoken from the Heart - 74

returning it to its owner with a bob of his head.

"Thank you. If I'd attempted that, it would have been the
end of the second act before I straightened."

The man's voice was dry and thin, but clear and

assured enough to remind Alex of the teacher who'd
taught him his letters. Silver hair was drawn back neatly
and confined with a black bow, and the gray eyes
peering at Alex were lively.

"My mother used to make my father drink ginger tea

when his back stiffened," Alex offered.

"Really! And did it prove efficacious?"
Alex laughed. "He went back to work to avoid

drinking more, so I suppose it did." Sobering, he added,
"But, yes, I do believe it helped. My mother is known
for being a healer, and she would not have wasted time
on a remedy that didn't work."

"I will instruct my cook to prepare some tomorrow,

and we will see if I too benefit from her undoubted
wisdom."

The formality of the gentleman's language made Alex

want to respond in kind, not from any desire to impress,
but simply because the old man deserved a matching
courtesy. Shyness bound his tongue after his initial
words, and he turned his head to glance again at the
stage, uneasy that he'd been too free with his advice to a
stranger.

His worries vanished when the gentleman addressed

him again. "You are fond of this play?"

"Why, I don't know." Alex shook his head at the

ineptness of his reply. "Forgive me. I'm not usually so
scatter-brained. To tell you the truth, this is the very first
play I've attended, and all I know of this one is that it's a

Spoken from the Heart - 75

comedy. I -- a friend of mine has a part in it, and he
arranged -- so kind! -- for me to have this seat."

"Kind indeed." The man seemed lost in thought for a

moment, a frown adding creases to an already lined
forehead. "I'm very familiar with this play. Would it
interest you to know a little about it?"

"It would indeed." Alex bit his lip. "But not, perhaps,

the ending? Ju -- my friend said I'd be surprised, and it
would be ungracious of me to make him a liar."

The man chuckled. "Well said, sir! And no, I would

not spoil the pleasure of seeing this play for the first
time. I would merely sketch its elements for you."

"I'd be honored." Alex hesitated, unsure of the

etiquette of introducing himself. With an inward shrug,
he risked giving offense and said simply, "My name is
Alex Martin."

"Is it indeed?" The man didn't extend his hand,

something Alex was glad of, since the man's fingers
were twisted and bent, so even the gentlest of touches
would have been painful. Instead, he touched his hand to
his chest. "Marmaduke Stellforth, at your service, as you
were at mine."

Alex wanted to stand and bow, as custom demanded,

but the theater was filling around them and he had no
wish to be conspicuous. He settled for as deep an
inclination of his head as he could manage.

"And now the play. Ardent Hearts was written when

Mistress Julia Spencer was at the height of her fame --
and her beauty." A wistful look passed over the thin face.
"I danced with her at a Lady's Eve ball once. It was like
being partnered with thistledown. She had the merriest
eyes… To think that she's been dead these last thirty
years…"

Spoken from the Heart - 76

Alex was sorry for the lady's passing, but unable to

summon much grief over a death that had occurred long
before his birth. He made a sympathetic sound and
waited for Master Stellforth to continue.

"The play is about lovers. What comedy is not? Love

is the ultimate joke the Lady plays on us and the perfect
subject for both comedy and drama."

"I suppose it is," Alex agreed. His brothers had

certainly turned into idiots when their hearts had been
captured but their love not returned, jealous, quick to
anger, and prone to extravagant gestures.

"In the play, we meet three sets of lovers, all of

whom are in love with the wrong person. We see it here
in the audience, but the lovers, ah, they are blind. A
young girl comes to their small town, beautiful, assured,
the gloss of the city on her. Wiser than they, but with a
mischievous spirit, Annette tells them if they are truly
meant to be with each other, it can be proved simply
enough. They scoff at her; what need of proof when
their love shines so brightly!" Marmaduke raised thin
eyebrows. "But secretly, they begin to wonder."

Alex let out the breath he'd been holding. "It sounds

most exciting."

Marmaduke nodded. "She proposes a masked party,

where each of the six will arrive alone, forbidden to
reveal their identity."

Alex frowned. "I would know a friend even beneath a

mask," he objected. "I would recognize their voice, the
way they moved, the color of their eyes."

"This is the theater," he was told, a note of severity

entering Marmaduke's voice. "One accepts the delicious
unreality as perfectly plausible. If you saw a child
blowing soap bubbles would you poke the bubbles and

Spoken from the Heart - 77

make them vanish or enjoy their swift flight, the gleam
of a rainbow caught in their surface?"

"I beg your pardon," Alex said, with all due humility.

"So, they don't know who is who?"

"No, they do not -- and there are more than the six at

the party, of course. There is a spurned suitor for
Clarissa, a shy youth, richer than any of his friends
know, but determined to be loved for himself. There's a
host of townsfolk, too, but we need not consider them.
They provide a background for the main characters, no
more than that."

Hoping his question seemed casual, no more than that,

Alex said, "My friend plays the role of Allan, he tells me.
Is he -- when does that character appear?"

"Allan! Ah, a small role, but important." Again, Alex

was conscious of his new friend's attention straying
somewhat. He waited patiently enough, though there
were signs the play would soon begin. Nearly every seat
was taken and the lamps were being lowered, some
turned out completely.

"Allan is an older man than the six, who are young

enough to be foolish. Not that it's a quality restricted to
youth, of course, no not by any means. He's deeply in
love with Thomas, who is Clarissa's intended."
Marmaduke shook his head. "Some were shocked by
Mistress Julia's daring. It was a different time, you
understand. Not like today when such affairs are
accepted. She stood by her play, though, declaring that
the story of Allan and Thomas was the most poignant of
all of them and prevented the play from being no more
than sugar-sweet froth -- but I will say no more. The
play is about to begin and I have given you a glimpse of
its shape, I hope."

Spoken from the Heart - 78

"Oh, indeed you have. Thank you, sir." Alex sank

back into his seat, his mind awhirl. He had expected to
see Julian in the smallest of roles, a few lines at best, but
this sounded far more than that. He had known Julian
for a scant handful of hours, when all was said and done,
but he had the measure of the man. It would be
disconcerting to see Julian as someone else, more so if
Julian was successful in his portrayal. He would not be
Julian for the time he walked the stage; he would be
Allan, a man who'd never heard of Alex, a man in love
with another, his love ignored or rejected, perhaps.

It really was no wonder that his parents frowned on

plays. They confused the mind terribly.

A bell sounded, the high, sweet note ringing out,

stilling the buzz of the audience. The lights went out,
plunging the theater into darkness, and before Alex
could do more than gasp, the curtain swept up, revealing
a drawing room with a young woman reclining on a
couch, eating candy from a beribboned box and reading
a novel.

Alex gripped his hands together, fascinated by the

way the bare boards he'd trodden earlier that day had
been transformed into a room by the use of wood,
canvas, and paint. He would be helping Duncan build
another such world soon and the idea thrilled him.

The play began, drawing him inside to the point

where he was unaware of anything around him except in
a vague fashion. People were laughing or making
sounds of sympathy as the characters revealed their
feelings, were shifting in their seats or -- so rude! --
talking to their companions in a sibilant whisper, but the
stage was the reality, the bright spot.

Some of the words were delivered quickly, in a drawl,

city-fashion, and he had to strain to catch their meaning,

Spoken from the Heart - 79

but the play was easy enough to follow. Alex suspected
he was missing some of the jokes; beside him, Master
Stellforth was chuckling helplessly at lines that weren't
funny at all to him, but the age of the play made that
inevitable.

Allan's entrance, unannounced, had Alex leaning

forward, jolted for a moment out of his absorption with
the play. Julian was wearing a beard, a short one, and it
changed his face completely. His voice was his, but
subtly different, too, the rhythm of the words Allan's.

Julian was Allan, without artifice or guile, not

portraying him, but being him in a way that left Alex
admiring, proud, and yet oddly desolate, as if, for the
space of time the play ran, Julian had ceased to exist.

Thomas came across the room to talk to the man who

loved him, and Alex drove his teeth into his lower lip as
Allan's eyes lit up, his pleasure evident to all but
Thomas. And yet Thomas stayed by his side, even when
Clarissa smiled at him over the flutter of her fan, stood
close, touched Allan's arm and forgot to take back his
hand for the longest while…

The play ran with one break in the middle. The lights

rose at the interval, and Alex jerked as if he'd been
doused in cold water. The loss of the world behind the
curtain, his reemergence into this opulent, crowded
space, already abuzz with chatter -- it was disorienting.

Marmaduke smiled, a look of such perfect

understanding on his face that Alex could not hide his
reaction under a bored mask.

"Oh, sir, that was--"
"Room, if you please."
The seat on Alex's right was empty, one of the few

unoccupied seats, but there were plenty of other people
in his row and all of them seemed intent on leaving, in

Spoken from the Heart - 80

search of refreshment, perhaps, or a chance to relieve
themselves. He'd seen the long bar in the room beyond
the entrance hall, wine bottles and glasses filling the
shelves behind it, casks of beer and cider off to the side.

"People don't have time to drink much, but it brings

in the coin," Julian had told him. "Over-priced, but don't
say I said so. I'll give -- no, don't look like that -- I'll
loan you some coin, though, in case you're thirsty."

With an apologetic look, Alex shifted his legs to

make room for a burly man, a meek drab of a woman
trailing behind him. By the time the row had emptied, he
was better able to frame his response.

"It was wonderfully well done. I have nothing to

compare it to, though."

"Ah! An excellent point. I see your problem, but the

solution is simple enough; go to more plays."

Alex laughed. "I start work here tomorrow, helping to

build the sets for the next one." He remembered what
Duncan had called it and corrected himself. "The next
production, that is. So I daresay I'll see bits of it, but if I
can save enough coin, I will buy myself a ticket."

"You sound excited about the idea of working here."
"Oh, I am!" Belatedly, Alex realized Master

Stellforth might be in need of refreshment himself.
Some people had stayed in their seats, but not many.
"Do you wish to stretch your legs, sir?"

Marmaduke shook his head. "No, but if you have

need, do not feel obliged to keep me company."

"I'd sooner stay here." Alex grimaced. "I'm still

getting used to so many people all in one place."

"You're new to the city, then?"
"I -- yes. I arrived…" Alex thought back over the

days, counting them silently in his head. "Eight days
ago."

Spoken from the Heart - 81

"And already you have two friends and a job.

Fortunate indeed."

Alex took Marmaduke's meaning and smiled at him.

"If you mean I am to count you as a friend, why, you're
too kind. I'm honored."

"It's not often I encounter someone with some

enthusiasm, or such good manners. I'm not sure if our
paths will cross frequently, but if you ever have need of
some advice, my offices are in Addison Street."

"Your offices?"
"I'm a lawyer," Marmaduke explained. "Close to

retiring, but there always seems something only I can
handle… I'm attached to the duke's court. Even a duke
cannot change everything. The Realm has certain laws
that must never be broken."

"Ladylaw."
"Indeed. Within that framework, though, the new

duke -- ah, we must stop calling him that, must we not? -
- can do as he pleases, unless an edict from the Queen
forbids it." Marmaduke shook his head. "And you do not
wish to be lectured when you're still captured by the
magic of the play."

"No, I'm most interested," Alex said, with more

politeness than truth. His gut was churning as he thought
of where one of the new laws had placed him, but it
wasn't a subject he cared to discuss, even if his promise
to Julian hadn't sealed his lips.

"Well, I'm more interested in what you thought of

your friend's performance. Melville is wasted in the
lighter roles, but there's enough meat to the role of Allan
to allow him to make something of the part."

"It was so strange to see him as someone else." Alex

glanced down, rubbing at a non-existent spot on his
breeches. "He -- I met him only yesterday, but even so."

Spoken from the Heart - 82

"You have an enviable gift for making friends

quickly then."

Alex thought of the stall-keeper's face, dark with

anger, and the vindictive smile he'd given Alex when the
guard had dragged him away. "Not always."

A silence fell between them, not uncomfortable, but

peaceful. Alex had a dozen questions about the play, but
Julian could answer them if needed. The interval ended
and the theater filled again, the curtain rising on the
second act.

Alex found himself able to watch with more

objectivity now. He even found himself able to criticize
a clumsily delivered line from one of the actors,
frowning at the way it ruined the moment.

Julian's performance, though, seemed flawless. Alex

watched, an ache in his heart, as Allan declared his love
to a startled Thomas, who fled, torn between awakening
desire and his waning attraction to Clarissa. Sat
enthralled as the tangled threads of the various couples
were slowly unwound and rewoven into order. He'd
expected a neatly happy ending to the play, but in the
end some of the characters were left alone, hopeful of
finding their love in time, to be sure, but realizing what
they'd thought of as love was a mere fancy.

When Thomas walked up to Allan and slowly,

tentatively placed his hand on Allan's face, Alex found a
sob rising in his throat, and he wasn't alone. Allan -- he
could not think of him as Julian in that moment --
smiled back at Thomas, the depth of his emotion evident,
and covered Thomas' hand with his own.

It was their ending, and it left Alex feeling satisfied.
The curtain fell for the final time, and he turned to

Marmaduke, his palms smarting from clapping, only to

Spoken from the Heart - 83

discover his new friend had left during the tumult of
applause.

Alex rose to his feet, ignoring the hissed disapproval

from the people behind him, but Marmaduke had
vanished into the crowd.

Spoken from the Heart - 84

Chapter Six

Julian looked down the table at Alex experiencing a

warm glow of approval. Alex was behaving beautifully,
neither pushing himself forward in a way Julian's friends
would resent, nor being stupidly shy and shrinking. He
spoke when addressed, answering freely without talking
too long, and now and then asked a question and
listened attentively to the answer.

It helped that he'd been full of praise for every actor

at the table, his enjoyment of the play evident enough
that it made his compliments clearly sincere.

Julian had been curious about Alex's opinion of his

first play, but in the tumult backstage it hadn't been
possible for Alex to do more than murmur something
disjointed, his eyes full of a worshipful admiration.
Once the group had reached the Groat and Goat, the
tavern they frequented most often, they had been
separated, with the actresses who played Clarissa and
Anette converging on Alex with gleaming eyes.

Julian had contemplated a rescue, but in the end had

shrugged. Alex was old enough to require some
grounding in the art of flirtation, and Melissa and Claire
wouldn't break his heart.

It occurred to him, watching Alex try not to stare at

Claire's cleavage with the fascination it deserved, that he
still didn't know where Alex's tastes lay when it came to
a bedmate. The flicker of Alex's tongue against his prick
had suggested some experience with men, but Alex was
responding to the overtures the two young women were
making as if he was truly delighted to be seduced.

Well, no matter. Julian didn't intend to cross that line,

no matter how much Alex's freshness appealed. It was
that very freshness and innocence that put Alex out of

Spoken from the Heart - 85

reach. Julian had seen the stricken hurt in Alex's eyes as
he knelt and the flash of anger that had sustained Alex
through his ordeal. Julian wished to see neither again.

No matter that Julian harbored a wish to make love to

Alex and show him some tenderness, give him pleasure
and watch that responsive face tighten and twist with it,
Alex's hands gripping him, urging him on…

"Julian, get your mind out of the clouds and tell me

what you wish to drink, man."

Julian turned his head to smile at Damon, his love in

the play, though never in life. Damon had married early
and was already the father of twin girls. Damon adored
them, but they were teething and he'd cravenly taken
refuge in the tavern, leaving Sarah to deal with their
fretful, broken sleep.

"Ale, my friend, nut-brown ale."
"That's not your usual," Damon objected. "You

wouldn't care for a glass of Reckton Red?"

Julian shuddered. "I would not. I'd sooner drink

vinegar."

Damon took a sip from his glass. "It's not that bad."
"It's swill," Julian said, as if he hadn't been drinking it

himself the day before. "Listen to what your mouth tells
you."

"I like it," Damon said cheerfully, and tossed the

contents of his glass down his throat.

Julian opened his mouth to argue the point when a

chance lull in the conversation around the table allowed
him to hear what Melissa was saying to Alex, her voice
creamy smooth.

"So tell me, sweetling, how did you meet Julian?"
Too late, he realized that beyond forbidding Alex to

reveal how they'd met, he hadn't dreamed up a story that
would satisfy an idle questioner -- which Melissa most

Spoken from the Heart - 86

certainly was. If it didn't affect her directly, she patted
her blonde curls, lowered extravagantly darkened lashes
over her deep blue eyes, and ignored it. That she was
troubling herself to ask Alex anything meant only that
she was interested in bedding him.

Julian strained his ears to follow the conversation,

wishing he was sitting closer so he could join it, but
unable to do so without giving the question too much
weight. Now that, Melissa most certainly would notice.

"Why, we found ourselves sharing a table at Mistress

Lindy's," Alex replied, and Julian relaxed. Alex wasn't
lying, but he was shaping the truth in a way that came
close. The casual use of the restaurant's name as if he'd
been there often, the indifferent shrug as he recounted a
dull story…perfect if unexpected. "As we talked, he
mentioned an opening at the theater, and I was most
happy to hear that. I'm new to the city and needed to
find work. "

He leaned closer and lowered his voice. Julian

couldn't catch Alex's words, but from the way Melissa
bridled, a coy smile appearing, it was unlikely the topic
under discussion was still how he and Alex had met.

Long before he would usually have turned his steps

toward home, Julian was ready to leave. He had an early
rehearsal and Duncan would be expecting Alex not long
after sun-up. He paid his bill and discreetly arranged for
anything Alex ordered to be added to his account in case
Alex chose to linger. After saying his farewells, he made
his way to Alex, who was propping up a wall in a dark
corner with Melissa clinging to his arm. Claire seemed
to have lost interest in Alex, which didn't surprise Julian
overmuch. She tended to prefer men with deep pockets,
and Alex was a little green for her tastes.

"Time to go."

Spoken from the Heart - 87

"Julian, you can't possibly be tearing Alex away from

me -- from us -- so soon." Melissa pouted sweetly, but
there was an annoyed glint in her eyes that spoke of
frustration.

Well, even if Alex did intend to succumb to her

charms, it would do him no disservice in Melissa's eyes
to appear difficult to capture, even if his reluctance was
an illusion. It might, unless he was clumsy, even get him
a second chance to warm her sheets.

"Sadly, we must be awake at an unheard of early hour.

What did Spicer say? 'Dreams interrupted by the shriek
of a rooster, sleep split asunder by the clamor of a
clock'?"

"I neither know nor care," she snapped, before

turning a melting look upon Alex. "Dear boy. Such a
delight to see a new face. One grows so tired of those
who seem forever underfoot, like naughty puppies."

Amused, Julian held back his impulse to yap at her

and caught Alex's eye, seeing nothing but relief in the
young man's expression. Alex's eyelids were drooping, a
yawn ready to split his mouth wide. Time to go indeed.

With a bow to Melissa, he swept Alex out into the

warm night, the street outside seeming quiet and empty
after the hubbub of the tavern, though there were still
plenty of people about.

Ale heaved a sigh and fell into step beside Julian.

"My head is splitting from the noise. Do you think I'll
ever get used to it? So many people!"

"It was a slow night," Julian told him, tossing a

copper to a beggar crouched down against the entrance
to an alley, his rags cocooned around him. "Why, we
had seats. I've been there with the place so crowded that
the only way out was through the windows."

Spoken from the Heart - 88

"I could not bear that." Alex shook his head. "I'm

sorry. I sound like an ungrateful brat and that wasn't my
intention. Thank you for taking me there and
introducing me to your friends. I truly did enjoy that."

"Even if some of them were a little too friendly?"

Julian teased.

"What? Oh! Mistress Melissa, you mean?" Alex

scratched the side of his face, looking more bemused
than embarrassed. "She -- I think she wanted me to --
well. I must have misunderstood her friendliness. We've
only just met, after all."

"If you thought she wanted to take you home and

drain every drop of white from your balls, you didn't
misunderstand at all." Julian chuckled. "Lady, if you'd
gone with her, Duncan would've been whistling for you
in the morning. Melissa's bed is like a spider's web; easy
to enter, difficult to leave."

"But--" Alex came to a halt, his face illuminated by

one of the gas lamps the duke intended to place on every
street, though as yet they were confined mostly to the
richer areas and the squares. "She does not know me."

"She knows what you look like, and that's enough."

Julian let his gaze wander over Alex. "You're new,
pretty, with muscles she'd love to squeeze and coo over,
and you're young enough that your prick will stand for
her many times in a night. She really doesn't require
much else in a bedmate, but she gets bored easily, so if
you go to her bed, don't expect to find yourself welcome
there a month from now."

"I have no wish to -- none!" Alex looked adorably

agitated, but Julian reflected that really the lad needed to
adapt quickly to his new life or be forever blushing.

Spoken from the Heart - 89

"Then avoid her. Or confide in someone that you

have a mysterious rash that itches like fire and she'll do
the avoiding."

Alex gave him a pained look. "Now you make me

want to scratch my balls, curse you."

Julian grinned. "That's better." He clapped Alex on

the shoulder. "There are going to be many women eager
to taste you. You don't have to say yes to all of them, but
by all means say yes to one or two. Why not?"

He turned, intent on reaching home and easing his

aching feet -- the shoes he wore on stage were a full size
too small, Lady take them -- and almost missed Alex's
quietly spoken words.

"Because I prefer men?"
Julian spun around, telling himself he'd been a fool

not to know.

"There's no sin in that, Pippin, and the same applies

to any man who chases you."

Alex gestured with his hand as if he was pushing

something away. "I do not wish to play the part of a
prude, but I cannot couple with someone
so…thoughtlessly. I desire the act itself -- why wouldn't
I? -- and I'm not entirely untried -- there was someone
once -- but I cannot just--" His voice faltered, and he
gave Julian a beseeching look. "Don't mark me down as
a fool not to take what's offered so readily."

"I don't," Julian assured him. "The only problem I

have with your scruples is that they will make you ten
times as enticing. Everyone will wish to be the one who
holds the key to unlock your heart."

"But they'll be interested only in undoing my

breeches?" Alex asked, with a welcome touch of humor.

"I'm afraid so, but there are worse fates than to be

desired."

Spoken from the Heart - 90

"What about you?" If Alex was blushing now, Julian

couldn't see it. Alex's chin was up, his gaze direct. "Do
you desire me?"

Julian was too good an actor to let any emotion show

on his face without his express approval. He placed an
amused smile on his lips and ignored the way his breath
had quickened. "As a friend, most certainly, and as a
roommate until you find somewhere better. As for the
rest, you're a little young for me, and you know how
recently my heart was engaged. It would be seen as
disrespectful to Lord Marcus if I replaced him too
quickly."

Alex stared at him in silence and then smiled. "Of

course. Did I tell you I had the good fortune to be seated
beside a man who also asked me to consider him a
friend? He was most knowledgeable about the theater."

Jealousy was not an emotion Julian had ever

considered himself ruled by, but hearing that roused a
storm of it, forcing him to choose his next words
carefully. "Is that so? I'm glad he was able to enlighten
you. Did he give you his name perhaps? Arrange to call
on you?"

"He gave me his name, yes, and told me where he can

be found if ever I had need of him. I liked him so much,
Julian. I would be sorry to think that we never met
again."

A weight of responsibility settled down on Julian.

He'd never harbored the slightest desire to father
children, or even own a puppy, but he imagined fathers
felt this way when their sons were rushing heedlessly
along a path leading to something dangerous. A cliff,
perhaps, or a swamp.

"Alex, sweetheart, promise me you won't meet with

anyone strange to you in a private location. The slavers

Spoken from the Heart - 91

have been outlawed for years, but it doesn't mean they
don't exist, and even if this man is simply interested in
you as a lover, it's not wise to -- why are you laughing?"

"Master Stellforth is ancient," Alex explained,

between giggles. "Truly, I'm not as green as you think.
Slavers don't come into the Westerlings because when
we find any, we hang them, but I'm no fool."

"'Master Stellforth'? Marmaduke Stellforth?" Julian

asked, his mind blank with astonishment.

"Why yes. Do you know of him? He's a lawyer for

the duke himself, or at least that's what he told me."

"He was also my father's best friend," Julian said,

asperity replacing his shock. Marmaduke and
Alex….the two did not belong together and to think of
them seated beside each other made his gut churn. "I lost
a milk tooth biting his finger and I was supposed to
marry his eldest daughter, though she had the good
sense to choose someone else."

Alex's face was a study in surprise, his jaw dropped,

his eyes wide. On stage, anyone watching would have
deemed it over-acting. He gathered his wits enough to
close his mouth at least, and Julian took his arm, urging
him back into motion. Getting home was a matter of
another ten minutes walk, and Julian found himself in a
hurry.

They moved through the streets in silence, each lost

in thought. By the time Julian slid the key into the door,
his head was aching with the press of questions building
up.

He led Alex inside and faced him. "Does Stellforth

know who you are? Your name, your connection to
me?"

Alex nodded, his shadowed eyes miserable. "I didn't

tell him how we met or that I'm staying with you for the

Spoken from the Heart - 92

moment. Just that we were friends and you'd given me
the ticket. I'm so sorry, sir. I didn't mean to be indiscreet,
but truly, he was so kind to me, explaining the play and-
-"

"Stellforth encouraged my father to close his doors to

me when I said I wanted to be an actor," Julian
interrupted Alex, his voice cold. "Said the theater was
no place for a gentleman. Oh, he loves to go there, to be
sure, but he considers actors beneath him socially. When
my father fell ill, his housekeeper sent for me -- she
always liked me -- and we reconciled before he died, but
I spent so much time without him in my life and I know
who was to blame for that. My mother died when I was
a child. My father was the only family I had."

Julian could still hear the rasp of his father's labored

breath as he lay dying in his huge bed, propped up on
pillows; feel the feeble clasp of a once-strong hand fall
away as the last breath left the wasted body.

The pity in Alex's eyes was more than Julian could

bear. With a muttered curse, he walked away swiftly, his
boots noisy on the floor, aware he was being unjust to
Alex, who couldn't have known any of his history with
Stellforth. By the time he reached his bedroom, guilt had
quenched his anger. With a sigh, he turned around and
went back down the stairs.

Alex was where Julian left him, a lost, stricken look

on his face. "I will leave," he said, but Julian shook his
head.

"Forgive me," he said simply, using his own words

for once, because this mattered too much to borrow
them. "You didn't know. And for many years, he was as
dear to me as family. I counted him a friend. I can see
why you'd be drawn to him."

Spoken from the Heart - 93

Alex crossed the room in a rush and threw his arms

around Julian in a hug as comforting as it was
unexpected. "He's no friend of mine. Not now.
Though…"

"What is it?" Julian gave into temptation and stroked

Alex's hair, pushing a few stray strands of it away when
they brushed his face.

"He knew I was to start work at the theater and his

manner didn't alter. And when I spoke of you, he
seemed thoughtful, but not, well, not dismissive or
scornful. He praised your acting."

Julian frowned and stepped back, out of the warm

circle of Alex's arms. "That seems unlikely."

Alex raised his hands helplessly. "He said…" He

closed his eyes for a moment, as if to summon a more
exact memory. "He said you were wasted in the lighter
roles, but Allan had enough meat on it to make it
worthwhile." He gave Julian a hopeful smile. "That
doesn't sound disapproving. Maybe his opinions have
altered with time and he regrets--"

"It doesn't matter." Julian didn't soften the snap in his

voice. "He took my father away from me for years. My
inheritance was reduced to the bare minimum required
by Ladylaw and the rest went to Stellforth, I believe.
Some nonsense about a gentleman's agreement between
them. Even after we reconciled, my father didn't change
his will back to make me his heir. I know who to thank
for that."

Alex rubbed his finger over the bridge of his nose.

"Master Stellforth had so much influence over him?"

"They were best friends."
"Even so."
"What are you trying to say?" Julian tilted his head,

his chin thrust out. "That my banishment was my

Spoken from the Heart - 94

father's choice, uninfluenced by the whispers of
Stellforth?"

"Friend or not, you were his son. Forgive me if I

speak out of turn, but--"

"You do! Blood and shit, you do!" Julian shook his

head in disbelief. "One day. One day we've known each
other, and you feel you can offer your unasked for views
on my private life."

"I did not mean -- I'm sorry if I overstepped--" Alex

was pale, his voice shaking, but Julian did not have it in
him to forgive a second time.

He drew himself up, all offended dignity. "I will not

ask you to leave when I know you have nowhere to go,
but I will ask that for the short time you're under my roof
that you refrain from--"

He knew he sounded unbearably pompous -- very

like his father, which worried him on one level, but he
couldn't seem to stop himself. Alex did it for him.

"Thinking? Speaking?" The temper Julian had seen

glimpses of had stiffened Alex's backbone, it seemed.
He stood straight, tears glittering in his eyes, his voice
still unsteady but no note of apology softening it. "Yes,
we're strangers, but sometimes that distance, that
unfamiliarity lends a clearer view. He was your father!
The choices he made were his, and from what you tell
me, they were cruel ones, but it's unfair to blame another
for his actions. How do you know Master Stellforth
poisoned him against you? Why would he do such a
thing when he loved you both and wished for you to
marry his…oh."

Julian raised his eyebrows. "Oh, some glimmer of

understanding has arrived, has it? My father was
wealthy enough that an alliance with him would have
been advantageous, though I'll grant you old Stellforth's

Spoken from the Heart - 95

never lacked for coin himself. For his part, my father
wished to gain entry to the court, and even back then,
Stellforth had influence there. When I rejected Susanna
in favor of joining a troupe, I put an end to their plans. A
fool could see how one thing leads to another."

Alex's lower lip jutted out stubbornly. "Not

necessarily. And even if it were so, you forgave your
father and to my mind he committed the worst offense.
Why can you not see your way to reconciling with
Master Stellforth?"

"Why do you even care?" Julian asked, his voice

rising. "What business is it of yours?"

"I care because I've hurt you!" Alex shouted.

"Through no fault of my own, true, but I've upset you
and spoiled what was such a -- such a--" He swallowed,
his throat working. "The play was the most wonderful
experience of my life, and you -- why, you were him,
completely, totally, Allan. I hadn't understood how that
could be until I saw it, but you were not Julian, you were
speaking, moving, thinking as another. It was incredible.
And I wanted to tell you that in the tavern, but I couldn't
speak to you alone and now you don't wish to hear it."

With every word, his voice went lower, until by the

end it was a bare whisper.

There was a pause, awkward, filled with the ragged

edges of their argument that once again had been
shredded to bits by Alex's sincerity.

"You should be an actor yourself," Julian told him

wryly. "We have a fondness for drama in our personal
lives, as well as on the stage, and you're good at stealing
another's thunder, by Lady."

"Do you want me to apologize for that, too?"
Julian tilted Alex's chin up with his hand so they

were staring at each other. Alex's green eyes were

Spoken from the Heart - 96

washed clear by tears, not reddened, and the sweet,
tremulous mouth begged for a kiss.

"Suppose we accept that tonight has been a little too

exciting and go to bed? I'll most likely wake peevish and
grumble at you, because I'm a surly creature at times and
there's more in my life than you that's causing me to feel
that way. Ignore me, and I'll soon be smiling at you
again. It's hard to see how I could hold out against your
eyes, Pippin. They're very eloquent." With a careless
kiss to Alex's cheek that cost him to keep light, he
stepped back. "There. We've kissed and we're friends
again. You can sleep easy, hmm?"

Alex seemed more composed now, but though he

nodded obediently, he didn't walk away.

"What is it?"
"You said we'd kissed and made up. That's not true.

You kissed me; I didn't kiss you."

Julian smiled. "Not an actor, but a lawyer or maybe a

philosopher? Kiss me then, Pippin, and after that, I'm
going to my bed no matter what. My feet are aching,
thanks to those bloody boots the costumer put me in."

"They looked most elegant." Alex stepped closer and

slid his hands over Julian's shoulders and up to cup
Julian's face. Large hands. Warm and slightly rough.
"You looked…" He cut himself off, bringing his lips to
met Julian's. The kiss was soft without being tentative,
and Julian could all but taste Alex's desire to make it a
lover's kiss, not the light brush custom called for. He
could feel himself yield, leaning in, his lips parting.

It would be so easy. One kiss, another, Alex's breath

quickening, his mouth becoming so flatteringly greedy,
his hands clutching at Julian…

I could have him in my bed begging for my prick in

less time than it would take me to give the prologue from

Spoken from the Heart - 97

Scandal and Schemers. And he'd enjoy it, too. He's so
hot for me that he's burning with it, but what kind of a
man would I be --

"Friends," Julian said firmly, and stepped back, away,

his prick half-hard, arousal making his voice husky.
"Sleep well, Alex. I have no need to be at the Pinnacle
quite as early as you, so you'd best make your own way
there. Eat a hearty breakfast in case Duncan makes you
work through the noon hour, and I'm sure our paths will
cross during the day. Have you coin for a meal if by
chance he does release you?"

"I have plenty." Alex bit his lip as if he wanted to say

more, but Julian kept his expression calm and friendly,
and after a moment, Alex nodded and left the room.

Julian busied himself with some mundane tasks,

stacking dishes to be washed and refilling the kettle with
fresh water for the morning pot of tea, until he was sure
Alex was safely in bed.

Then, with weariness pulling at him like beggars'

hands, he went to his own bed.

Spoken from the Heart - 98

Chapter Seven

Alex plunged the sharp trowel into the packed earth

to loosen it, drawing a dandelion out and hopefully
leaving no root behind. The leaves were edible, if bitter,
and the flowers themselves could be made into wine, but
Julian's garden was home to only enough of the plants to
be a nuisance, so out they came.

In the three weeks he'd been tending the garden, Alex

had managed to clear the weeds from only a quarter of it.
It was shamefully slow progress, but he had so little
time during the day, and though the nights were short,
darkness had usually fallen by the time he'd prepared a
supper for them both and eaten his share if Julian was
still working.

He'd not tried hard to find somewhere else to live,

though he knew he was obliged to do so. This was
Julian's home, not his, and he was imposing. Just when
his fierce determination to find somewhere as soon as
possible had become a deep reluctance to leave, he
wasn't sure. He told himself until the garden was weeded
and pruned, with herbs, vegetable, flowers, and trees all
flourishing, he needed to stay, but it was an evasion and
he knew it.

The truth was simple, even if he couldn't bring

himself to face it. He was falling in love with Julian and
wanted to spend as much time with him as possible.
Even if, at the moment, that time consisted of a bleary
eyed good morning and an equally sleepy grunt in the
evening. Julian, deep into rehearsals that went on all day
and often resumed after the evening performance of
Ardent Hearts had ended, was looking fine-drawn and
pale.

Spoken from the Heart - 99

Alex also knew without him in the house to coax

Julian into eating, the man would be surviving on fresh
air and sunshine -- and Julian saw precious little of
either.

Alex's own hours were long and arduous, but at least

they ended when the sun was still in the sky, even if it
was sinking fast. If he and Duncan had reached a point
where wet paint meant no more progress could be made,
sometimes Alex was even released early. Ladyday was
always left free for both of them, but on the last one,
Julian had slept until noon, then gone around to Patrick's
much larger house to practice a scene, returning with a
frustrated scowl and a sullen mood for Alex to endure
patiently.

Well…he'd tried.
Remembering how they'd squabbled that evening had

Alex stabbing his trowel into the ground with a frown of
his own, and jarring his wrist painfully when the tip of
the trowel struck a stone. With a yelp, he dropped the
tool and cradled his wrist to his chest, rubbing the ache
away and working his fingers.

"What's wrong, Pippin?"
Alex turned, surprised to see Julian in the garden,

picking his way along the uneven stone path as daintily
as the cat who sometimes sat, unblinking, and watched
Alex sweat. He was dressed in the dark blue jerkin and
gray breeches he wore when he expected to spend the
day and night at the theater, but to Alex's mind they
suited him as well as any of his finery. The breeches
clung to long, elegant legs in a most distracting way and
the cloth of the jerkin was soft to the touch, as he'd
discovered when Julian had given him a careless hug
one night while wearing it.

Spoken from the Heart - 100

His head bare, the ruddy light of the setting sun

making his dark hair gleam, Alex wanted to rise, go to
him, greet him with a kiss. Julian had made it plain he
didn't want that intimacy between them, but Alex
couldn't remove the feelings he had as easily as he could
uproot a dandelion. No matter how he tried -- and he
wasn't trying hard -- a smile from Julian, or the use of
the nickname Julian had bestowed on him, and he was
once again a smitten fool, helplessly drowning in a flood
of longing and arousal.

He knew Julian would dismiss his love as an

infatuation born of gratitude, something that would fade,
and he accepted the partial truth of that. He did hero-
worship Julian to the point where an overheard word of
disparagement at the theater would bring his head up,
indignation flaring as he identified the source of the
insult. Living with Julian, though, had rubbed off the
glitter to a certain extent. Alex had quickly discovered
that in common with many of his fellow actors, Julian
was temperamental, careless with money, and convinced
he was destined for fame. When he was crossed, he
could fly into a rage as quickly as a thwarted child,
though there was no real heat behind his tirades.

Worse had been the day when Julian was low-spirited

and morose, drinking wine like water and descending
into a depression none of Alex's reassurances could shift.
He had no way of knowing how often such moods
occurred, but he'd been left worried and tense. Julian,
once restored to good humor, had been charmingly
penitent, but he'd shrugged off Alex's questions.

"It happens, sweetheart. I can't say when it will

happen again, but it's the price I pay for my gift, I
suppose."

Spoken from the Heart - 101

"There's no need to make being in a foul temper

sound like something you're proud of," Alex had told
him tartly, bringing a rueful grin to Julian's face.

Alex let go of his injured hand and rose. He couldn't

kiss Julian, but he could smile at him. "I jarred my wrist.
It's nothing. You're home early tonight. I haven't started
supper yet. The day is so fine, I wanted to work
outside."

"You don't need to cook every night, and you don't

need to apologize." Julian's forehead creased in a frown.
"You're not my servant, you know."

"I do know." Alex hesitated, then blurted out, "Do

you want me to leave, Julian? I've been here so long,
and you won't take money for my room--"

He'd managed to make Julian accept some coin from

him, but not much. Julian truly didn't seem to consider
money important. If he had none, he stayed home, and if
his pocket was plump with his wages, he spent it or lent
it to his friends with a cheerful generosity. Alex had
been taught that one penny of every two should be saved
and it was better yet if both were set aside against a time
of need. He had no trust of banks, but he was saving as
much of his wages as he could, though with only three
payments so far, the pile of coins in the box under his
bed was a small one. Money melted away so quickly
here! He had spent some on clothes, thriftily purchased
secondhand, not new, and a pair of boots, those as
expensive as he could afford, because they needed to
last. A hat he'd deemed a frippery, but Julian had
insisted no gentleman went out without one, or a cloak,
and so, feeling foolish, Alex had added a plain black hat,
the brim modest, and a warm cloak for chilly or wet
days to his wardrobe.

Spoken from the Heart - 102

His weakness was books. The discovery of a

bookshop some twenty minutes walk from the theater
had rendered him speechless with pleasure. A shop that
sold nothing but books…it was beyond anything he'd
ever dreamed of. Julian, quickly bored once he'd
finished browsing the shelves of plays, had all but
dragged Alex out of the shop bodily, promising that
Alex could return alone another day. Which he had.
New books filled the bow window enticingly, their
bound covers bright, but the true treasure, as far as Alex
was concerned, lay in the back of the shop. There, lines
of narrow shelves, crammed closely together, were
crowded with used books, some costing mere pennies.
He'd staggered home, his fingers cramped, a stack of
books in his arms, the dust from them making him
sneeze at intervals, causing the stack to wobble
alarmingly.

Julian had pursed his lips, giving him an odd

resemblance to Alex's mother for a moment, and made
Alex dust them down before permitting them in the
house. Given how thick the dust had lain over the house
before Alex had taken a cloth to it, that seemed most
unfair.

"'Leave'?" Julian repeated, as if the word was new to

him. "Do you wish to leave, Pippin? Am I so foul-
tempered a beast you can't endure another moment close
to me?"

Alex gave him an exasperated scowl, no longer

impressed or fooled by Julian's habit of exaggeration.
"You know it's not that. I wish you'd be serious. You
offered me a bed for the night and then I was to find new
lodgings once I had a job."

"And Master Sampton is paying you as little as he

can get away with, and even the cheapest lodging house

Spoken from the Heart - 103

is beyond your means," Julian said. "Oh, you could find
a room in some noisome, squalid place down by the
docks, maybe, but what little you owned would be
stolen by the end of the first day -- you don't inspire fear
and trembling, my pet -- and I feel you'd be sharing your
bed with a multitude of bugs, at best, and a randy sailor
with a taste for fresh meat if the Lady had truly turned
her head." He shrugged. "I loathe the smell of fish, too,
and it would cling to you the way Melissa clings to your
arm."

"She doesn't, or if she does, I hadn't noticed." Alex

brushed Melissa aside with a gesture and took a deep
breath. "Sir -- Julian -- if I'm to stay longer, then I must
insist I pay rent."

"Certainly," Julian said agreeably. "And if you stay

and continue to cook, clean, tend the garden, and polish
my boots, I must insist I pay you wages. Suppose we
allow them to cancel each other out? So much simpler."

Alex stared at Julian, helpless to convey how little

that idea pleased him. Julian, always quick to read his
expression, raised an eyebrow in inquiry. It was a trick
of his that Alex had tried to master, succeeding only in
giving himself a headache as he fought to keep one
eyebrow down as the other rose.

"I….if I pay for my room, I'll feel I…have a right to

be here." He moved closer to Julian, too close not to
wish he was closer still. "Please. Allow me some dignity,
I beg of you."

"'On your knees and you seek dignity? You lost it on

the battlefield, not my rug.'" Julian cleared his throat.
"Bleak Dawn. Not one of my favorites. It tried to mate
comedy with tragedy and they make poor lovers."

Alex fixed a pleading -- and yes, dignified -- look on

his face and stared at Julian in silence.

Spoken from the Heart - 104

"Oh, very well." Julian sounded petulant, but there

was an indulgent note underneath. "When you get your
pittance each week, you may give me a silver for your
room and board. Well? Are we to haggle over it, or can
we go inside and toast to our new relationship with a
glass of wine?"

Alex beamed at him. "Of course!" He glanced down

at the small amount of cleared ground he'd achieved and
grimaced. "At least when I've finished this bit."

"Now!" Julian declared. "I've scarcely seen you for

days. I want to hear all about how you're getting on."

Alex might not be able to raise just one eyebrow, but

he was perfectly capable of lifting both. "Don't you
mean you want to tell me all the gossip and complain
about Master Rathes' reading of King Henry?"

"You," Julian said, with conviction and a cuff to

Alex's head that was more of a caress, "are a pert child,
and I shall teach you better manners when I have a
moment free."

Alex watched Julian saunter back into the house,

despair rising with the words he could only think, not
speak aloud.

I'm not a child. Don't make me one in your eyes so I

become untouchable, of no interest to you. Let me show
you what you mean to me. Let me try to win your heart -
- at least let me try.

He clenched his hands into fists, ignoring the stab of

pain from his injured wrist, and cursed himself for being
too much of a coward to speak up and too caught in love
to do the honorable thing and leave.

Spoken from the Heart - 105

Chapter Eight

By the time they'd eaten a chicken stew, washed

down with a white wine from the south, bone-dry and
cool from being stored in a pot filled with water, Alex's
natural optimism had been restored. He'd made Julian
laugh until tears shone in his eyes with a vivid
recounting of the theater cat's encounter with not one but
two mice. Unable to decide which one to chase, Max
had darted first one way then the other, before spinning
in wild circles, hissing and yowling as he chased the
long plume of his tail, allowing the mice to scamper to
safety.

"He came on stage once during a performance,"

Julian told him. "Jumped onto the daybed where Sarah --
Mistress Perrin; she's no longer with the company -- was
groaning through her death scene after taking poison.
Her lover had played her false and really, given her
inability to speak a line without sighing three times, it's
no wonder."

Alex could only imagine the scene. He chuckled.

"Did people laugh?"

"Did they!" Julian winced. "She was so

unprofessional. Would you believe it, when Max
jumped onto her lap, she actually sat up and tossed him
to the floor, though she'd taken her last breath the line
before and was supposed to be dead?" Julian was
lounging on the couch in the parlor Alex found far
preferable to the formal room, with Alex on the floor
beside the couch leaning back against it, his legs
stretched out. Alex had a cushion, but he preferred to
keep that in his lap rather than under his backside. His
cock could prove traitorously revealing when the lamps
burned low and Julian's voice, powerful, melodious, as

Spoken from the Heart - 106

he recited speeches from memory, raised goose bumps
on Alex's arms.

Alex snorted, overcome with amusement as he

pictured it. "What happened?"

"The stage manager dropped the curtain early,

blessings be upon his head. And now, Max is kept in
Sampton's office during the performance. He yowls, but
he's too far away from the stage to be heard. Do not, if
you value your job, take pity on him and let him out."

"I won't," Alex promised, still giggling. "I swear."
The conversation drifted on as easily as a leaf

floating down a river, leaving Alex dreamily content. He
was about to suggest an early night would do them both
good when Julian said lazily, "I've talked myself hoarse.
Entertain me, Pippin. Tell me about yourself. I know
where you're from, and I can guess why you left -- but I
can't picture you there, somehow. If you were there,
right now, what would you be doing?"

Alex gave the question some thought. "Is it a good

day or a bad day?"

"I don't understand."
"If it's a good day, what I'm doing will be different

than if it was a day when I didn't give my best."

Alex heard Julian's breath hiss out, but when Julian

spoke, his voice was casual. "Oh, a good day, to be sure.
Who wants to remember any other kind? Save the drama
for the stage, where it belongs."

"Well then. It's easy enough. I'd be in bed."
He turned his head and saw Julian roll his eyes in

exasperation. "That's cheating."

"It is not! It's long past sundown and candles aren't

made to be wasted. It's summer, so the days are longer,
but that means I have to be up early, too, so yes, I'd be in
my bed, dreaming of…"

Spoken from the Heart - 107

"Dreaming of what? A dazzling future? A lover?

Strawberry pie on the table the next day? What?"

"Just something different." Alex sighed. "Every day

was the same. Winter or summer, the tasks were
different, but they felt the same. Endless. I'd paint the
barn and the next year it would need painting again. I'd
weed and within a handful of days more weeds would
spring up. There's pride to be taken in producing good
food from the earth and having a fertile, well-kept farm,
to be sure, but it wasn't my farm, and it never would be."

"I would die of boredom within the week," Julian

said with conviction. "No, a day."

Alex smiled, but shook his head. "I miss it a little.

The air is fresher there, the sky bigger. I miss seeing the
wheat blow in the wind, rippling like water. I miss
walking for miles and seeing only people who know me.
I miss my family, too, though I felt like a cuckoo in the
nest most of the time."

"You could write to them," Julian suggested. "Tell

them you're safe and have work."

"They wouldn't think it counted as work."
"They'd be wrong." Julian's hand rested briefly on

Alex's shoulder, a warm clasp, over too soon. "I've seen
you working more often than you realize. Walked by the
workroom and watched you laboring over some tiny
detail probably no one in the audience will ever see, but
which makes the prop feel real to the actor. We don't
need them -- we once lost all our sets and costumes in a
flash flood on the road and completed the tour without
them -- but it helps immensely when they're good
quality."

Julian's praise left Alex feeling a curious mix of

gratification and embarrassment. Good work was rarely
commented on in the Westerlings because it was

Spoken from the Heart - 108

expected -- and a job done poorly would receive a terse
reprimand, a sharp word. The most approval Alex had
ever received from his father had been ten years before
when his hand had drawn a foal out of its close to death
mother when his father's larger hand had proved a
hindrance not a help. Alex's hand had been dark with
bruises the next day, cut by a small, sharp hoof, crushed
by the fierce contractions of the mare's womb as he tried
to turn the foal. He'd still been expected to do his chores,
but help had been given, quietly offered with a fleeting
smile.

"Will you write?" Julian asked, when Alex didn't

answer him.

"Maybe. Not yet. When I have something to tell

them."

As if sensing he'd made Alex uncomfortable, Julian

nudged Alex's shoulder with his knee and changed the
subject. "So, did you leave any broken-hearted lads
behind? You said you weren't completely
inexperienced."

Alex was shy about discussing it, but it occurred to

him if he did, Julian might see him in a different light.
He was nearly twenty and for Julian to treat him with the
indulgence a man would show toward a winsome child
was infuriating. "There was a man I lay with, yes. He
worked for my uncle, who breeds horses. I doubt he
remembers my name, though, let alone pines after me.
He's five or six years older than me and he had a
reputation for being ready to drop his breeches at a smile.
If he wasn't so good at his job, I think he'd have been
asked to leave. Last summer, at the end of harvest dance,
we slipped away and found a quiet place." Alex's body
heated at the memory, but it was the memory of what

Spoken from the Heart - 109

they'd done, not the man himself, that quickened his
breath. Such a brief taste when he was starving…

"Go on," Julian said, his interest evident, though

there was no salaciousness to sour it. "Tell me."

"What? I just did. We went off, he took me, and then

we went back to the dance. I was sore the next day -- he
said oil would've helped, but where would we have
found that out in the field? --but it was worth it, I
suppose." Alex shrugged. "I wish we could have done it
again, but my uncle's farm was two hours away on foot
and the chances were if I'd gone there Micah would have
been busy or not interested. I probably wasn't very good.
He said I pleased him, but I think he was just being kind,
because a few hours later, he left again, but with another
man, and he was away for much longer with him, half an
hour or more."

"Sweet Lady, that's what you call kind?" Julian

whistled, a sharp, discordant sound that brought Alex's
head around. "He takes you with as much care and
thought as a dog mounts a bitch and then flaunts another
man in front of you? You deserved better."

"I -- he didn't mean to--" Alex turned, resting his

folded arms on the couch and staring up at Julian whose
face was flushed, his expression indignant. "He gave me
what I'd asked for. It's not his fault I was too green to
know what to do, how to move, how to open up for
him."

"You asked to be his quick tumble, to be fucked dry

and left raw? I doubt it."

Julian's concern, couched as it was in criticism of

what Alex had done, brought Alex surging to his feet. "I
was nineteen and I'd never -- do you know how it feels
to be so hot you can't sleep at night, your cock's so hard
with need? I shared a room with my brother and he'd tell

Spoken from the Heart - 110

me stories about what he'd done with the Seldon twins
and I didn't care for women and I didn't believe half of
them, but I couldn't help getting hard and there was
nothing and nobody for me but my hand and it wasn't
enough." He gulped in a breath, aware his voice was
shaking.

Julian rose from the couch, his lips parting to speak,

but Alex had heard enough. He stretched out his hand.
"Don't say anything more. For all the faults you find in
Micah, he, at least, didn't treat me like a child and he
wanted me. Not for long and not much, but it was better
than what I had, which was nothing." He stepped back.
"What I still have."

"You're a spoiled brat," Julian said with asperity. "I

won't take what you're offering because I care too much
to use you that way, and so you sulk and pout and droop
like a wilted flower? I know of two men at the theater
who'd give you what you're aching for, and I can
personally attest to one of them being skilled and
inventive, but you told me you wanted more than just a
fuck. Now I find you weren't so particular in the past.
Well, what's it to be? If your prick needs blunting, I can
tell you their names or take you to a nighthouse I know.
My treat if it'll take the scowl off your face."

"You--" Hampered by an upbringing where cursing

was met with a soapy finger rubbed briskly over his
tongue, Alex could only stand and sputter. Julian's
insults, his offer -- Alex wasn't sure where to begin
when it came to rejecting them and making Julian see
how far he'd strayed from basic courtesy and respect. "I
have no need, none, of your kindness, sir. I can arrange
such matters myself and I'm perfectly well aware of who
you mean at the theater."

"Really? Name them."

Spoken from the Heart - 111

Alex drew himself up. "Master Selwyn and Anthony,

the man who helps Mistress Sarah with the costumes."

"Anthony? Really?" Julian pursed his lips. "Hmm, if

you say so, but I had another in mind. No matter, it's
clear you have no lack of opportunities, so have at it
with my blessing."

"I will," Alex said, and knew his voice was still

annoyingly shaky. "Forgive me thinking, even for a
moment, that the great Julian Melville would be
interested in a stagehand -- no. No." He shook his head,
shocked by the flash of hurt he'd seen in Julian's eyes.
"That was unfair. You've been nothing but kind to me,
and you're right, I'm being a brat. You made it clear
you're not interested in me as a lover, and I should
respect that." He met Julian's eyes, pleading with his
own for Julian to understand what lay at the root of his
behavior. "It's just…how could I not fall in love with
you after what you did, after I've come to know you?
How could I not want you to be the one I share a bed
with, not men I barely know and don't much care for?"

Julian sighed, looking older than his years. "You

don't love me, Pippin, and you don't know me, not yet.
Gratitude isn't love, and once the novelty of the city
wears off, you'll see I'm not the catch you think me. I
was born of good family, but I'm an actor now. We
entertain the nobles and some of the great ones, like
Galliero, why, yes, they're welcomed at court when
they're in fashion, but even so, we have no power, no
status. Duncan's a registered carpenter, bonded and
accredited at the highest level. He chooses to work at the
Pinnacle, but if he was to set up in business, he'd be my
social superior, so let me hear no more of how you're
beneath me. It's not true."

Spoken from the Heart - 112

"I'm sorry," Alex muttered, and hung his head. When

would he learn to curb his tongue?

"You're sorry, but you still don't understand why I

won't sleep with you," Julian said. "Sometimes when
you smile at me, I don't either, if that helps. I do find
you more than appealing, Pippin, I swear. I just can't
forget how we met and what you had to do to free
yourself. I look at you and remember that scared young
man kneeling at my feet and I--"

Really, sometimes Julian was just impossibly fond of

complicating matters. Alex dropped to his knees before
Julian and tilted his head back. "Do I look scared to you
now?"

Julian breathed in sharply, but didn't reply. Alex put

his hand on Julian's thigh, feeling the muscles flex
against his hand. "Or now?" He slid his hand over to cup
the swell of Julian's prick, noting with satisfaction that it
was growing larger with every passing moment. "Last
time I did this, I had no choice. Tonight I do. I want to
suck you, Julian. Take you in my mouth and feel you
harden for me, learn what pleases you and do it again
and again until you're weak with the pleasure of it. I
want to do this, not because I owe you anything, but
because I can still remember how you taste and how
well you filled my mouth. I want--"

"Oh, stop talking," Julian said, his voice soft, husky

with need and baffled exasperation. "Take what you
want then if you won't have it any other way."

His resolve faltered, and Alex bit his lip, sitting back

on his heels. "If you don't wish it--"

Julian rolled his eyes. "I'd have to be a Lady-sealed

monk not to want it, you fool. Just don't see this as a
declaration of love, because it's not. It's the desperate act
of a man being nagged to death by a brat."

Spoken from the Heart - 113

"I won't," Alex promised him. "And I'm sorry about

the nagging."

"Be sorry about it later," Julian said, and unbuttoned

his breeches just far enough to allow his hand to slide
inside.

Alex watched Julian's wrist move with the narrow-

eyed absorption of a cat eying a bird, waiting for the
moment when he could pounce. Julian chuckled. "So
patient." With the careless attitude to undressing that no
longer shocked Alex -- much -- Julian pushed his
breeches down and kicked his bare feet free of them,
leaving him naked from the waist down, the hem of his
shirt hiding what Alex so desperately wanted to see,
touch, taste. "Let me sit, and put something under your
knees. There's no need for you to bruise them."

The sight of Julian leaning back on the couch, his

knees spread, his cock stiff and hard, left Alex breathless
with lust. With an appreciative moan, he shifted position
so he was between Julian's legs, the cushion stuffed
hastily under his knees. It made him wobble a little, but
it was softer than the wooden floor.

"Slowly," Julian cautioned him when he leaned in,

eager to fill his mouth. "There's no rush. Undo your own
breeches or take them off. And if you spill white over
the couch, you'll be scrubbing it off, I promise you."

Alex had never been so fumble-fingered before, but

after what seemed like long minutes, not seconds, the
three buttons holding his breeches together were undone
and his breeches in a heap beside Julian's. The warm air
of the room was like a caress on his prick, the skin there
stretched taut and thin. He ran his hand over it, unable to
keep from touching himself, and saw desire leap like a
flame in Julian's eyes.

Spoken from the Heart - 114

"The Lady was feeling generous when she blessed

you and no mistake. You're tempting me to be the one
kneeling."

Alex shivered with longing, the thought almost

enough to bring his pleasure to an untimely end. "Any
time you wish that, I'm yours, but this time let it be me,
please?"

"Since you ask so nicely." Julian slid his hand into

Alex's hair, playing with it without using it to jerk Alex's
head down as some of the men -- no. He wouldn't think
about them. Not now, when he was so close to making
what he'd dreamed of happen. Julian tucked his shirt up,
baring a flat stomach, furred over with hair, silky and
dark. Alex put out his hand, wanting to see if it felt as
soft as it looked, but he hesitated, his gaze going to
Julian's for permission.

Julian smiled at Alex and took his shirt off with a

flourish, leaving him naked. "Is that better?"

"Oh, Lady, yes!" Without thinking about it, he put his

hand on Julian's thigh, caressing it absently as he stared
blatantly at Julian. Julian was sturdy enough, muscles
honed by the demands of his craft. He'd spoken of
fencing lessons, dance instruction, a voice tutor,
astonishing Alex who'd thought acting a matter of
standing and speaking. Julian, acting at night and
rehearsing in the day, was often so tired he'd be all but
asleep as he ate his supper. Ardent Hearts wasn't
physically demanding, but Silence Falls required Julian
to engage in two sword fights and do a lot of athletic
leaping around the sets Alex was helping to create. The
strong, compact body he was gazing at was marred with
bruises and cuts from the wooden practice swords and
collisions with the scenery. They troubled him, though

Spoken from the Heart - 115

he wasn't sure why. Julian was no delicate flower, after
all. Still, Alex didn't like to see them.

Rising up and leaning over, Alex kissed each mark he

could see, pressing his mouth against each patch of
reddened skin, each slash of purple bruise. Julian
exhaled, his hands by his side, allowing Alex to do as he
pleased.

One scar, an old one, paler than the skin surrounding

it, lay an inch above Julian's right nipple, ending a
finger's width from it.

"That's too old to be healed with a kiss." Julian

sounded sleepy, but his nipples were as stiff as his prick,
the soft skin around them puckered up. Daringly, Alex
flicked out his tongue, lapping at the small point, too
shallow to allow him to suck at it easily. Julian made an
encouraging sound, but the head of his cock dug into
Alex's belly, reminding Alex of his original objective.

He raised his head, close enough that Julian's breath

fanned his cheek. He wanted to kiss that clever,
beautiful mouth, but was that an intimacy Julian would
permit?

"Never play cards for money, Pippin," Julian said

solemnly, and brought his mouth to Alex's for a light
kiss.

The kiss was guarded enough that Alex didn't do as

his instincts demanded and open his mouth to take
Julian's tongue. Instead, he echoed the small movements
of Julian's mouth, choking back his need for more.

When the kiss ended, he exchanged one heated

glance with Julian and then ducked his head down. Alex
couldn't wait a moment longer, and from the way Julian
thrust up eagerly into Alex's mouth, neither could he.
That first thrust made Alex rear back, startled, but Julian
murmured a contrite apology and settled back.

Spoken from the Heart - 116

"I won't do that again until you're ready, but your

mouth…so inviting."

Alex nodded, unsure of what to say in reply. With his

hand wrapped around the base of Julian's prick, he was
more confident and he set about rediscovering its taste
and the way it felt against his tongue.

The difference in textures fascinated him, from the

ribbed shaft, so unyielding, to the skin sheathing the
deep red head, skin that folded back so neatly. He traced
the folds with the tip of his tongue and then the deep
cleft in the head. Smell and taste were mixing together
as if they were one sense, not two. Musky, salty, bitter,
acrid -- he breathed deeply and ran his tongue over the
roof of his mouth, unbearably aroused, but too caught up
in his exploration of Julian's body to give much thought
to his own.

"Tell me what to do," he said a moment later. "Do I

take it all? Do I suck, or lick, or--"

"Have you never -- no, I suppose not." Julian ran his

finger around Alex's mouth and then startled Alex by
pushing it inside. "Try this."

Feeling ridiculous, Alex obediently sucked at Julian's

finger as it slid slowly in and out of his mouth. Julian's
eyes were hooded, intent, watching the wet glide of his
finger as if it aroused him to see it enter Alex's mouth.
Desire tugged at Alex, and he hummed around the
slender finger, sucking at it strongly, his embarrassment
forgotten. It was easy to flicker his tongue, to lap and
even, daringly, to bite, when it was a finger, not a cock
he was playing with. The touch of his teeth made Julian
hiss, but it was with pleasure, not disapproval.

"That's good, yes, I like that, but go carefully."

Spoken from the Heart - 117

After a while, Julian tugged his finger free and gave

Alex a look half inquiring, half challenging, his
unspoken, 'Well?' clear enough.

Alex grinned at Julian, his earlier fears forgotten.

With a confident air, he gave the head of Julian's prick a
swipe with his tongue and opened his mouth, intending
to take the full length and do to it as he'd done to Julian's
finger.

Julian sat obligingly still, not raising his hips at all, so

Alex had no one to blame but himself for striking the
back of his throat with the head of Julian's cock,
prompting his body to go into a spasm of coughing,
saliva flooding his mouth.

Through watering eyes, he sneaked a look at Julian,

expecting to see amusement, getting only understanding.
"Everyone does that at first." Julian shrugged. "Even
when you think you're good at the act, it can still happen.
There's no need to take me that deep." He wiped away a
tear trickling down Alex's face. "Would it be easier if I
showed you?"

Alex bit on his lip, quelling the panic rising within

him. He wanted to do this well and he was failing
miserably. He was relieved, though, that the memories
of his time in the stocks were manageable. He'd feared
they would surface and leave him floundering, lost in
remembered distress, but he felt safe in this house, this
comfortable, untidy room. Julian wasn't part of the bad
memories; he was the dawn, not the night. He'd brought
release that day, and now perhaps they could both find a
different form of it.

"I want to do this for you."
"Do it with me," Julian suggested. When Alex gave

him a puzzled look, Julian rose, kicking aside his

Spoken from the Heart - 118

breeches unceremoniously. "Upstairs. For this, we'll
need a bed."

Alex held his ground, not unwilling, but curious. His

father had always stressed the importance of examining
a hole before jumping into it. "Why?"

"Because we need to lie down, and the floor's none

too comfortable." Julian took Alex's hand and raised it
to his lips, kissing the knuckles with a graceful flourish
of his free hand. "Trust me, you'll like this and so will I."
He gave Alex's prick an appreciative look, and heat
mounted in Alex's face. He wasn't that large, surely?
He'd seen others as well-endowed.

He trailed upstairs in Julian's wake, watching the pale

ass in front of him, the long legs with their smattering of
dark hair.

Julian's room was as untidy as the room they'd left,

the lamp, once lit, producing some useful shadows.
Clothes Alex had laundered lay in heaps around the
room, not put away, much to Alex's secret indignation,
and the bed was unmade.

Julian shook out the quilt, smoothing it out over the

rumpled sheets. It was made up of red and black
triangles in silk and velvet and stuffed with down. The
bed looked inviting and terrifying. Marcus had lain on it
with Julian and made him cry out, hoarse and sharp, an
overheard note of yearning that had left Alex tense with
desire. Taking his place seemed impossible.

Mute, imploring, Alex gazed at Julian, who moved

closer. "So serious, Pippin," he said lightly. "What we
do here is for pleasure. It's meant to be enjoyed, not
agonized over."

Alex swallowed. "I'm just -- I want to do this right."

Spoken from the Heart - 119

"It's difficult to know how you could do it any other

way," Julian said. "Your body knows better than you.
Let it guide you."

He sat on the bed and drew Alex down beside him,

his hands gentle, but firm. Alex lay back, feeling
something momentous was about to occur, then blinked
as Julian turned so his feet were by Alex's nose.

Alex sat up and glared at Julian, who was reclining

on his side, completely at ease. "Are you making fun of
me?"

Julian looked startled for a moment, his eyes

widening, then he chuckled. "You think like this our
options are limited? Let me show you how wrong you
are, sweetheart. Lie back and turn on your side…yes,
like that. Now, just…"

Julian curved his body, bringing his head close to

Alex's groin. Julian's warm tongue passed over his cock,
softened somewhat by his uncertainty, and Alex gasped
as it regained its earlier condition. "Oh!"

Julian raised his head, his hands resting on Alex's

thigh and stomach. "Now do you see?"

Alex didn't bother to reply. It was so much simpler to

shift on the bed, the quilt cushioning his body, and curl
around, as Julian had, to reach his prize.

He began by echoing whatever was done to him, but

as his confidence grew, he took the initiative, nuzzling
into the soft jiggle of Julian's balls and feeling the hair
around them tickle his nose, and stroking the smooth,
firm curve of Julian's ass. Alex quickly learned that
Julian loved the tip of his cock being sucked hard, but
not for long, and that Julian would stop to stare, his eyes
lust-glazed, when Alex rubbed the spit-slick head of
Julian's cock against his closed lips and cheek.

Spoken from the Heart - 120

Alex felt powerful, daring. Julian's cock was rigid,

swollen with need, an emphatic sign of approval, and
Julian was clearly enjoying himself. His tongue was
never still, a heated flicker against a prick that had never
been so hard. It was a little difficult to split his attention
between what he was doing and what was being done to
him, but gradually they became one and the same. The
liquid sounds of a prick entering and withdrawing from
a warmly welcoming mouth, the luxurious sighs and
moans, the hush of hands caressing bare flesh…it ceased
to matter who made them.

Alex rocked his hips, seeking to get deeper, and

sucked the cock shaping his lips into a circle, the rhythm
so easy, so seductive. He was climbing without knowing
what he sought to reach, his heart pounding. He knew
what it was like to spend, but he sensed even that
familiar act would be different. He wanted to experience
it with his next breath: he wanted this ecstasy to never
end.

Suddenly, with no warning but a strangled cry, his

teeth grazing the side of Alex's shaft, Julian went still,
the world seeming to hold its breath. Guessing what was
to come, his cock throbbing in sympathy, Alex
swallowed quickly to clear his mouth of spit. His tongue
lay against the underside of Julian's cock, and he felt the
slow, remorseless pulse as Julian's seed left him in a
warm gush.

It tasted strong, like his first sip of brandy, and with

his mouth already full, there seemed no room for it, even
when he swallowed, his throat muscles working. The
taste brought back that afternoon in the square and he
felt a desolate pang, wondering if it would always be
this way, if he could even find his finish now that his
stomach was rebelling.

Spoken from the Heart - 121

Julian saved him, unwittingly this time, drawing free

and allowing Alex space to breathe.

"Give me a moment," Julian said hoarsely. "Oh,

Pippin, you're entirely too good at this. I meant for you
to finish first."

"It doesn't matter."
Julian made a sound that could've meant anything

and worked Alex's cock with his hand, using his tongue
now and then. Within a short time, Alex was on his back,
panting harshly, his hands gripping the quilt as tightly as
they could, Julian crouched between his legs.

"I need -- oh Lady, please!" He was babbling, words

pouring out of him, any reserve, any dignity lost. The
onslaught to Alex's senses was erasing anything that
wasn't this room, this bed, the man over him, so intent
on his task. He stared down at Julian, the sight of his
cock half-buried in Julian's mouth driving his need
higher, a fire stoked by dry kindling, burning fierce and
clean and hot.

With a wail he'd blush later to recall, his seed left him,

his body locked in ecstasy's grip, his mouth shaping
Julian's name as he closed his eyes and rode out the
storm.

Spoken from the Heart - 122

Chapter Nine

"'My loyalty is to my king, and I do not see him

before me'," Julian said, curling his lip at Patrick, who
grimaced back, falling out of character entirely, as Julian
was pleased to note.

Really, the man was so unprofessional.
"Patrick, you need to make that a quelling look, not

one that makes me think you've bitten a wormy apple,"
Cranston called from his seat in the stalls. "You're a king
and your best friend has just crossed a line. Your
dignity's stung."

"I know all that," Patrick snapped, with a toss of his

head, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. Wooden,
for now, though soon they'd begin to work with metal
ones, carefully crafted to look sharp and yet be
incapable of cutting a pat of sun-warmed butter. "It's just
a trifle difficult when I'm playing opposite a grimacing
monkey." He turned to Julian. "Must you look like that
when you say the line?"

Julian tapped his mouth with his finger, wondering

absently why Patrick was so quick to anger this morning.
His brow had been clouded before Julian had even
begun to annoy him.

"Disdainful? Scornful? Disappointed in your

performance -- King Henry's, I mean, of course? Why,
yes, I do believe I must."

"Enough!" Cranston called. "Lady save me, if you

two don't behave, you can take your place as courtiers
with no lines. I can get two men off the street to take
your place and the play will be the better for it."

Julian swung around to give Cranston an incredulous

stare, his action and expression mirrored by Patrick. At
least in this they'd found common ground. "Replace us?

Spoken from the Heart - 123

I think not." With a low bow to Patrick, he said sweetly,
"Shall we, dear sir? From the top?"

Patrick returned his bow. "Certainly, old friend." He

took a deep breath -- a habit of his that Julian deplored --
and declaimed, "'See how I stand before you in my glory
and tell me you do not see a man born to rule more than
this small stretch of land, a man destined to see his
kingdom spread from ocean to ocean, encompassing
every inch that the fiery sun and silver moon doth shine
upon.'"

Julian gave his reply, too well-versed in his lines --

and Patrick's -- to need to give all of his attention to
speaking them. As they had quite often this day, his
thoughts went to Alex, who'd retreated to his own bed
after what Julian had to admit had been a most enjoyable
interlude, and had been all shy blushes and smiles this
morning.

It was adorable, and Julian was more than willing to

engage in such activities with Alex again, but a quiver of
unease was disturbing his pleasant memories. Alex's
declaration of love was not to be taken seriously, of
course. Flattering, perhaps inevitable, but nothing that
would endure. Even so, had it been wise to give way to
the lad's demands? Probably not, but when had a man's
prick ever been wise? Julian had been three weeks
without a lover, and his resolve had faltered.

Admit you wanted him as much as he desired you.

That your blood heats when he smiles, that you will not
rest until you feel him split you wide with his prick. Lady,
so long, so thick, white as marble and as hard…

He spoke his lines, strode the stage, hitting his marks

perfectly, and all the while, he was waiting for a glimpse
of red hair, a sight of Alex.

Spoken from the Heart - 124

At noon he'd take the lad to Lindy's, he decided. An

hour with Alex would soothe this restless itch and he
could apply himself properly to the business at hand.

And tonight…
"Master Melville! If you cannot remember your lines

with the opening less than two weeks hence--"

Julian stared bewildered at Cranston and then sighed

as he realized he'd spoken a line that fell later in the
scene. "I crave pardon," he said. "My mind wandered."

"Then I suggest you bring it home." Cranston stood, a

small figure, his jerkin faded, his graying hair standing
on end where he'd grabbed at it. Even so, he commanded
attention and respect. Julian always enjoyed working
with him, even when Cranston pushed him to his limits -
- or perhaps because Cranston pushed him. "Enough. I
need to piss -- or throw up after enduring this leaden
display of ineptitude -- and you two clearly need to
gather your wits about you." He turned to his assistant, a
quiet young man, studious and efficient, who shadowed
Cranston and did his bidding. "Gather the actors for the
murder of Ballantyne scene. The one that doesn't have
these two in it."

Julian exchanged a rueful smile with Patrick as they

left the stage, suitably chastened.

"I'm sorry about the misread line," Julian said,

generously offering Patrick the opportunity to criticize
him because he knew full well he deserved it. "My
carelessness ruined the scene."

Patrick waved Julian's apology away with a

magnanimous gesture. "Not at all. It was creaking
already. I fear my wits, like yours, were elsewhere. It's
been a troublesome week for me."

Julian stifled a yawn. He really didn't wish to hear

one of Patrick's rambling stories about a lover's dispute

Spoken from the Heart - 125

or a pair of breeches made too tight. The man could
make the most exciting event dull as mud. "I'm sorry to
hear that. What troubles you? Is there anything I can do
to lift your burdens?"

"Too kind, but, no." Patrick hesitated, losing some of

his affectations. "It's my little sister," he said. "She's ill
with a fever and does not -- she isn't recovering as one
would expect. Lara is very dear to me. So bright and
lively and to see her lie there, her face flushed hot, her
eyes seeing nothing, her words nonsense…it's hard."

"Patrick, I'm so sorry." Moved to real sympathy,

Julian took Patrick's arm. "The poor child. I remember
her well. We met at the first night party for Cursed to
Live. Dark hair and the most charming laugh. A
delightful child. A fever, you say?"

"Yes." Patrick bit his lip, his voice flat and hard. "It's

not just her. She was at a birthday party a week ago.
There was a gift -- a caged bird from Delcinte. It flew
around the room, feeding from their hands, brightly
colored with a sweet song… The bird is dead and four
of the children are sick now. I cannot help but feel the
bird brought the fever with it and I -- the physician is not
without hope, but--" He covered his eyes with his hand.
It was a gesture he made in the play, but Julian didn't
judge him for that.

"She will recover," Julian assured Patrick, filling his

words with conviction. "A strong, healthy child, well
cared for and lovingly nursed? I will expect to see her at
our opening night and if you will permit me to send her
some small token, a book to be read to her when she's on
the mend, some raspberries, picked fresh --"

"It is kind of you, but she would not -- you have not

seen her, Julian! She is raving, tossing in her bed, the
covers soaked through with sweat, her hands never still,

Spoken from the Heart - 126

her voice never silent." Patrick rubbed at his eyes,
shadowed with weariness, Julian noticed for the first
time with a twinge of guilt. "I must go. If I hurry, I can
return home and see how she fares. If I'm needed, tell
Cranston where I am to be found."

He pressed Julian's hand in farewell and hurried away,

seeming diminished by his fears, leaving Julian to stare
after him, their rivalry for the moment not as important
as it once was.

***

"This pie is all you said it would be." Alex's words

were somewhat indistinct, but his meaning was clear
enough. "I came here with Duncan last week, but they'd
sold out. I was beginning to think I'd never taste one."

Julian smiled, still distracted by Patrick's tale. The

man's eyes had held such dread, as if little Lara might be
lost to him already, even though her body still breathed,
her heart still beat. It had been like that with his father,
too, a sense that he had already slipped away, moving
onward in some indefinable way, leaving a shell behind,
a semblance of himself.

"You're not hungry?"
Julian glanced down at his plate, where his own pie

lay congealing as it cooled. He'd taken two or three
mouthfuls, no more. "My appetite left me. It doesn't
matter." He roused himself. "How did your work go this
morning? You said you were designing the tower
room?"

"Yes. Master Cranston wants the walls to resemble

stone, but a simple painting on canvas will not suffice.
Duncan was at his wit's end to devise a way to make

Spoken from the Heart - 127

walls that weren't too heavy to be moved, when we
chanced upon a solution. It's most ingenious. You see--"

"I discovered today that Patrick's little sister lies ill,

close to death," Julian said abruptly, and hated himself
for wiping the animated look from Alex's face. "I'm
sorry. It's no affair of yours, after all, or of mine, for that
matter."

"Well, but of course it is!" Alex said hotly. "Poor

child. What ails her?"

Julian frowned. "A fever, possibly carried by a bird

from Delcinte. Some of her friends have taken ill, too."

Alex set his fork down; eying what remained on his

plate with sudden disfavor. "That's terrible. Should he be
at the theater? Isn't he needed at home?"

"As to that, he's gone home to see if there's anything

he can do, but I imagine the nurse has everything under
control. He lives with his mother and sister, or rather,
they moved in with him when his father passed. There's
money enough to have the best physician in the city, and
I'm sure he's drawing a bleaker picture than is the case
because he'd so worried. 'Fear makes cowards of the
bravest'." He didn't add the title of the play, as was his
wont. It had momentarily slipped from his mind, but the
words he'd quoted ran around his head, chasing
themselves until they became gibberish, lacking
meaning or sense. "Besides, he's needed at the Pinnacle.
We open in two weeks."

Alex gaped at him. "But he's needed more at home!"
Julian reminded himself that for all he worked in one,

Alex wasn't theater to his bones. Not yet, maybe never.
"No actor would think so. The play, the performance,
the audience going home satisfied -- that is what counts.
It's all that counts. You'll learn that, you'll live and
breathe the truth of it, or you'll never fit in."

Spoken from the Heart - 128

Alex's eyes were filled with disillusionment and

disgust. "That's nonsense, Julian. People matter, people,
not words spoken on a stage for the sake of those
watching. I love the theater and the play I saw was
wonderful, but it wasn't -- it doesn't matter as much as a
dying sister. Where is your compassion?"

Julian had no answer that would satisfy Alex, whose

flushed, indignant face was darkening with anger. He
shrugged and shoved back his chair, only to strike the
leg of a man passing behind him.

"Have a care, sir!"
"My apologies." Julian rose from the table wondering

just how many times he'd said those words today. "I
hope that you're not--" He broke off when he recognized
the man grinning at him. "Sly! Where in the name of the
light did you come from?"

"It's Captain Foxe to you, my little landworm, and if

you forget it, I'll have you scrubbing my deck, boy." The
wink that followed had Julian rolling his eyes, his
depression momentarily forgotten as he smiled at Foxe.
Tall, broad of shoulder, his brown hair bleached by sun
and salt water, James Foxe was a man to draw the eye.
He seemed too large for the room, his voice deep and
carrying. Julian had slept with him several times over
the years and emerged from Foxe's bed feeling as if he'd
been buffeted by a gale, but surprisingly content. They'd
met when Foxe had been in the business of ferrying
passengers and had taken the troupe by sea to begin a
tour of the southern lands, striking up an unlikely
rapport on the long voyage. Foxe was never in port long
enough for Julian to tire of his heartiness, and he
counted the man as a friend of sorts, even though it had
been over a year since their paths had crossed.

Spoken from the Heart - 129

"Captain Foxe -- is that formal enough for a man who

stinks of tar and fish and eats weevils from choice? -- I'd
like you to meet my friend. Alex, this is--"

Foxe frowned at Alex, who looked, Julian realized,

like a man about to lose what lay in his belly. "Don't I
know you, boy?"

"He's new to the city and you've been gone a year or

more." Julian would have said more, but Foxe waved
him to silence.

"I've been kicking my heels here for a month, waiting

for the Rosa Clara to be refitted. We ran afoul of a
storm off Salistere and limped into port half-starved
with a rag for a sail. Luckily I saved the cargo. I brought
in tea and silks from Delcinte, and furs from the
northern shores. Any profit will go to repairing the ship,
but I should break even on the voyage at least." Foxe
pointed a thick finger, twisted from a poorly healed
break, at Alex. "Ho! Now I know you, lad. You serviced
one of my men from the justice stocks. I'd half a mind to
use you myself, but I was called back to the ship." He
drew his hand across his chin, scratching at the stubble.
Foxe always shaved off his beard when he reached port,
then started to grow it back again when he was about to
sail. "He said even free you weren't worth it."

At that moment, if Julian had been holding a razor,

he'd have cut more than a few hairs from Foxe's head.
He'd grabbed Foxe's arm as soon as he grasped what the
man was saying, urgently bidding him to cease talking,
but Foxe was as impossible to halt as a runaway carriage.
His voice boomed out, attracting the attention of half the
room, and Alex cringed, his face bone-white.

Julian put himself between Foxe and Alex and

rammed his finger into Foxe's barrel of a chest. "Shut
your mouth and listen, if the seagulls haven't filled your

Spoken from the Heart - 130

ears with bird shit. This is my friend and I can vouch for
his character and innocence. You are mistaken."

"Never forget a face." Foxe's mouth set in a stubborn

line. "And that hair's hard to forget. No, this is the lad."

"You are mistaken," Julian said coldly, and drew

himself up, meeting Foxe's gaze squarely. "Or do you
call me a liar, sir?"

"What's all this?" Foxe looked bewildered now.

"Julian, we've been friends for too many years to quarrel
over a nightboy."

"He is not a nightboy." Julian's temper was rising to

the point where he longed to plant his fist squarely into
Foxe's face. He was interrupted by the clatter of a chair
hitting the ground. He spun around and saw Alex
heading toward the door, stumbling in his haste to
escape an intolerable situation, leaving startled faces and
voices raised in question behind him.

"Blood and shit!" Julian glared at Foxe. "If you

repeat what you've just said, you and I will cease to be
friends, Foxe. Alex is under my protection, working at
the theater. He is not and never has been a nightboy, and
you -- oh to the dark with you!"

He tossed coins down onto the table to pay for their

meal, not caring that some bounced off to roll on the
floor. He'd left more than was needed anyway. With one
last fulminating glare at a bewildered, expostulating
Foxe, he left, moving as quickly as Alex but with more
grace.

Alex hadn't gone far. Julian turned in the direction of

the theater and found him in the first alleyway, throwing
up against a wall, his body shaken by sobs. As Julian
approached him, Alex beat his fist against the wall,
cursing in a broken voice, the words barely coherent.

Spoken from the Heart - 131

Julian approached him, eyeing the noisome pool at

their feet with mild distaste, more concerned with the
blood he could see on Alex's knuckles. Alex's hands,
deft, skilled, so gentle when they'd touched him the
night before. They deserved better than to be slammed
against brick and left bruised and bleeding. Julian placed
his hand on Alex's shoulder, saying his name. Alex
jerked himself free and turned to face the wall, his arms
up, hiding his face.

"Go away!" The words were muttered against Alex's

sleeve, but they were clear enough.

"Happily, if you'll leave with me."
"I don't want to go anywhere with you or your filthy

friend."

"He's not here, and if he ever speaks so of you again,

he'll never have cause to call me his friend again."

Alex turned his head and spat, either to clear his

mouth or as an expression of his opinion of Foxe. Julian
didn't care. Foxe was a loudmouthed, blundering idiot,
but to do him justice, other than his assumption Alex
was a nightboy, he'd spoken nothing but the truth,
unpalatable though it was for both Alex and Julian to
hear.

Not that Julian intended to point that out to Alex.

Unlike Foxe, he knew when to keep his mouth closed on
words that could only wound.

Alex finally straightened and moved to face Julian.

His eyes were watering, his mouth awry with tears, and
anger radiated from him like the heat from the sun. "He
had no right! None. And he -- in there -- people heard
him--"

"Some did, but had you stayed, they would've

thought it a mistake. Your departure didn't help." Harsh

Spoken from the Heart - 132

words, perhaps, but something told Julian sympathy
wasn't the best tactic.

"How could I stay when he -- when he--"
"I know," Julian said, and kept his voice calm. It was

more of an effort than it should have been. His gut was
as twisted as Alex's, turbulent emotions seething through
him as he watched the distress on Alex's face turn to
bitterness.

"I will never be free of what happened." Alex shook

his head, his eyes dry of tears now, as if the heat of his
anger had made them evaporate. "One apple that my
father would've fed to a pig or left to rot. One apple and
I'm branded as a thief and worse."

Julian ached to pull Alex to him, comfort him with

words and his body, but Alex was clearly in no mood to
be touched. His eyes flint-hard, he pushed past Julian
without a word and walked over to a woman selling
small cups of watered fruit juice. Julian stood by as Alex
purchased two, using one to rinse out his mouth and
drinking the second, his expression forbidding enough
that the woman's friendly smile faded as she gave him
back his change.

Julian eyed Alex critically. His jerkin was clean,

fortunately, and his color was returning. By the time
they returned to the theater, Alex would draw no
inquiring glances if he could paste a less murderous look
on his face.

"We can't talk about this here, but tonight--"
"I don't wish to talk about it at all." Alex squared his

shoulders and gave Julian a stiffly formal bow. "Your
servant."

He turned to walk away, but Julian strode after him,

grabbing him by the arm. "Don't freeze me out, Pip --
Alex. I won't allow it."

Spoken from the Heart - 133

"You have no hold over me, none."
"Except that of someone who cares for you," Julian

said, his voice soft. "You know I do. I suffered with you,
for you--"

"What play is that from?" Alex snapped.
Julian opened his mouth to deny the words came

from anywhere but his heart, when he realized they were
from Wits Gone A'Begging. He cleared his throat, but
Alex had noted his hesitation and gave a scornful laugh.

"Your speech is made up of bits and pieces of other's

thoughts. Do you even have a voice of your own?"

"Yes!" Julian snapped, stung. "And I've raised it on

your behalf often enough, or have you forgotten that in
your tantrum?" He captured Alex's hurt hand in his own
and examined the damaged knuckles. "Young fool. Well,
Duncan's seen worse. Go to him and ask him to doctor it.
He'll ask no questions." He released Alex's hand,
steeling himself not to react to the way it had trembled
in his, and made a bow of his own. "I'll relieve you of
my company for now, but if you have any notion of
making a grand gesture like moving out, dismiss it."

Alex's lip jutted out mutinously. "Why? What

possible reason is there for me to stay? You care for me,
but you don't love me and I bring you nothing but shame
and upset. That man, my meeting with Master
Stellforth…"

Julian stepped close, ignoring the curious stares they

were getting from people passing by. "If you're willing
to share my bed tonight, I'll show you one reason to stay.
It isn't the best one, it isn't the only one, but you're in no
mood to hear them right now."

"And you think I'm in the mood to spread my legs for

you?"

Spoken from the Heart - 134

Julian smiled, hearing the longing under the sarcasm.

"You can spread mine if you'd sooner, but this isn't the
place to discuss it further. We save this discussion until
tonight. Agreed?"

Alex bit his lip and nodded jerkily.
Julian patted his face. "Sweet boy. Go back to the

theater."

"You won't walk there with me?"
"I have an errand to run," Julian said casually.
He had to return to Mistress Lindy's and stamp out

the rumors that were probably already flourishing like
weeds.

And if Foxe was still there and still talking, Julian

would take great pleasure in stamping on him, too.

Spoken from the Heart - 135

Chapter Ten

Alex returned to Julian's house late, drunk, and

defiant. He'd done poor work that day, ruining a detailed
carving that had taken him hours to make with a single
misplaced blow from his hammer against his chisel and
brought Duncan's wrath down upon his head when he'd
ripped a freshly painted canvas.

Going to a tavern and drinking as much ale as he

could stomach -- not much, but enough to make him feel
cushioned from his woes -- had seemed like the manly
course of action.

He'd considered not going home. He could easily

have flirted his way into someone's bed, but that betrayal
held no appeal even though he was still angry with
Julian. He wasn't entirely sure why now, but he clung to
the fact as he'd clung to the bar until it stopped rocking.
He'd thrown up again an hour before and been given a
cup of tea by a brusquely sympathetic barmaid. It'd
settled his stomach and sobered him a little, as had the
fresh air and the walk home.

He'd passed by the justice stocks on his way back and

stood staring at them for a while before taking out his
cock and pissing all over them, an act of defiance that
the rain, falling steadily like tears, washed away, leaving
him feeling frustrated.

Dripping wet, his hair plastered to his head, he

opened the door and promptly tripped over Julian's boots.
"Darkness take you," he muttered, and kicked them
aside, not caring that they struck the wall, making
enough noise to wake the dead.

Julian appeared at the top of the stairs, a dark blue

silk robe around him, hanging open to reveal his naked

Spoken from the Heart - 136

body. He drew it closed and fastened the belt with sharp,
angry tugs that spoke of his mood.

"If you must come back late and reeking of ale, could

you at least have the courtesy to do it quietly?"

"Sorry." Alex slammed the door behind him, hard.

He shrugged. "Sorry again."

"You misbegotten brat."
"No. My parents were married when they had me.

Not misbegotten. Not a brat, either."

"You most certainly are." Julian sighed loudly

enough for Alex to hear him and walked down the stairs.
"Just how drunk are you?"

"Not enough." Alex slid down the wall he found

himself leaning against, his legs suddenly incapable of
supporting him. "Just tired. And sad. And angry with
you," he added.

It struck him that being angry with his best friend, the

man he loved, was the saddest thing in the world. Alex
tilted his head back and found Julian looking down at
him, his expression one of fond exasperation. Alex
didn't want to see that. It smacked too much of being
treated like a child.

He struggled to his feet, ignoring Julian's outstretched

hand, and waited for the dizziness to recede. "I'm not
drunk. I was, but then I was sick and now I'm just--"

"Wet." Julian's raised eyebrow spoke volumes.

"And…sad, was it? I see. I, on the other hand, am
perfectly dry and wondering at how quickly my relief at
hearing you return has become annoyance. Why don't
we replay the scene? Good evening, Alex."

He inclined his head, politely offering Alex the

chance to redeem himself by replying with an equally
meaningless courtesy.

Spoken from the Heart - 137

Alex shook his head. "No. I can't do that. I'm too

upset." He waved his hand to show the breadth and
depth of his emotions, and struck Julian on the nose.

Julian's hand flew to cover his nose, a pained yelp

popping out of his mouth. It was the first unstudied
response Alex had seen from Julian, and it made him
grin, an unwise move, perhaps.

Julian lowered his hand and glared at him. "Enough.

Strip down and get yourself to bed. We'll discuss this --
all of it -- when you're sober, and Lady help you if my
nose is twice the size and my voice ruined tomorrow."

He turned on his heel and made for the stairs, but

Alex, contrition rising, went after him, catching him by
the shoulder. Alex was shivering now, the clammy
weight of his clothes a burden, and his head aching.

"Julian, please. I didn't mean to strike you, and I'm--"
"Sorry?" Julian inquired. "Apologies count for little

when the offense is repeated almost immediately." He
took in Alex's bedraggled and woebegone state and
sighed. "I'll run you a bath. You're shivering. Soak in it
until you feel warm again and then get yourself to bed.
I'll bring you in some ginger tea. You'll pay for every
pint you drank tomorrow, but the tea is said to be good
for hangovers."

Alex remembered telling Master Stellforth it was

good for stiff backs, too, but that only made him recall
how distressed Julian had been over his meeting with
the lawyer. He settled for a nod followed up by a sniff as
his nose began to run.

Julian's expression softened. "Oh, Pippin. You're a

difficult man to stay angry with."

Alex met his eyes. "So are you."

Spoken from the Heart - 138

"I think you're alone in that opinion, but never mind.

Bath. Bed." Julian touched his nose carefully. "Is it
swelling?" he asked plaintively.

***

Alex woke with dawn still some hours away, the

sheets he'd kicked off as he fought with dreams lying on
the floor. He felt better in that his stomach was calm and
his headache almost gone, but he was freezing and really
needed to piss. The latter need was easily taken care of
with a trip downstairs, but returning to his chilly bed
held no appeal.

With the weight of his dreams dragging at his spirits,

dreams filled with rough hands and jeering voices, he
found himself walking into Julian's room as if his feet
knew in which direction comfort was to be found.

Julian lay sleeping, the sheets pushed down to his

waist, the exposed lines of his body indistinct in the dark
room, lit only by the faint glow of the moon, the Lady's
light muted by clouds. Alex felt a throb of yearning.
Julian had been so understanding with his inexperience
without belittling him, so exciting a lover. To have
pushed Julian away with angry words because he'd fled
craven and cowering from his true target was
unforgivable. He shuddered, his teeth chattering, and
turned away. Julian had earned his sleep, and Alex, why
he'd earned his cold and unwelcoming bed.

"Get in bed with me or sigh more quietly," Julian said

sleepily.

"I didn't mean to wake you," Alex said in a whisper.
"Theater folk sleep light, and you make enough noise

for three. Get in."

Spoken from the Heart - 139

Alex scampered across the floor and slid between the

sheets, sighing with pleasure at the warmth of Julian's
body.

"Lady save us, but you're freezing. Come here."

Grumbling under his breath about feet like ice, Julian
settled Alex against him, generously draping himself
over Alex. Snug against a strong, warm body, Alex's
dreams receded.

"Couldn't sleep?" Julian asked.
"I had bad dreams."
"I can guess." Julian kissed the top of Alex's head.

"Poor Pippin. If it helps, I found Foxe and told him I'd
burn his ship to ashes if he ever dared to repeat what
he'd said to another soul."

Alex smiled unseen. He wished he could've seen that

confrontation. Julian would have been magnificent.
"Wasn't he angry?"

"Well, he knew I couldn't do it, but I think the threat

made him see how serious I was. He won't bother you
again and it's doubtful your paths will cross. He sails at
week's end."

"He didn't say anything that wasn't true." And wasn't

that what hurt the most?

"You're no nightboy." Julian pinched his backside,

making Alex jerk with surprise, then chuckle. "Though
if you were, Lady, I'd spend every penny I had on you."

The mere thought of it had Alex drawing back,

affronted. "Is that supposed to be a compliment?"

"I meant it as one. What, would you prefer to be so

clumsy and ill-favored that no one wanted you?"

"No! I mean… You confuse me," Alex complained,

settling back close to Julian again.

"You're desirable, good-hearted, and worthy of

respect," Julian said. "Even if you're possessed of a

Spoken from the Heart - 140

dreadful temper. Thank the Lady, you're not an actor.
You'd be a demon to work with, forever flying off the
handle and raising a storm."

"I would not!"
"You would." Julian pressed his lips against Alex's

forehead and kissed it, before moving down to kiss the
tip of his nose, each cheek, his chin… "My dear Pippin,
you assuredly would."

Distracted by the kisses, silenced though they never

touched his lips, Alex surrendered to the joy of being
forgiven so sweetly. He went to his back and allowed
Julian to caress him as he pleased, the darkness
surrounding them giving him license to show his
feelings on his face. He sighed, the delicious assault
leaving him melting, weak, and let his hands rove the
body pressed against his.

The hair on Julian's chest, crisp and silky, tickled his

bare skin. He could feel every breath Julian took, feel
the beat of Julian's heart. Daringly, he ran his hands
down Julian's back to the firm, perfect curves of his ass,
scratching lightly as he went. Julian moaned his
approval, twisting to get Alex's hands where he wanted
them, with Alex obliging, so that the journey was a slow,
sensuous one.

When his hands were cupping Julian's ass, he paused,

unsure of what to do. His cock was hard, a dreamy
arousal filling him that his body was responding to
faithfully, and it was impossible to miss Julian's
matching ardor. Even so, what next?

Julian's tongue traced a path around his right nipple,

and Alex gasped at the sensation as the air struck the wet
skin and cooled it. The gasp was followed by a whimper
when Julian bit at the small point of flesh, making it
peak and harden.

Spoken from the Heart - 141

"Do you like that?" Julian murmured. "Some men do

not, or they feel nothing."

"I -- I like it," Alex managed to say, and was

rewarded by having his left nipple treated to the same
exploration, Julian's fingers pinching the neglected one
with a twist that sent a flash of desire arrowing down to
Alex's cock. "Oh, do that again!"

Julian chuckled and repeated the gesture, his mouth

as busy as his fingers. "You're such an unashamed
sensualist."

"You make me feel as if I'm about to explode. My

skin is tight, and I need -- I don't know what it is I
need."

He was moving restlessly now, Julian propping

himself up on his elbows to allow it, seeking the touches
that would bring the fire blazing higher, even if it
consumed him utterly. Julian shifted lower, nipping at
the point of Alex's hip, nuzzling his belly low down
where the hair sprang up. Alex whined and spread his
legs wider, pleading wordlessly for Julian's mouth to
engulf the source of his need.

Maddeningly, as he'd avoided kissing Alex's mouth,

so did Julian avoid even the slightest brush of his lips or
fingers against Alex's prick.

"Touch me," Alex said, not knowing if he was

pleading or demanding. "Take me in your mouth again."

"Not tonight. I have other plans for you."
"Are you punishing me for my temper? I know I

deserve it."

"Maybe, but I think you'll find it a merciful one. I

won't deny you release. That would be beyond cruel. I
just wish, selfish of me, I know, to find what this feels
like buried deep inside me." As he spoke, Julian's hand
finally closed around the shaft of Alex's prick, squeezing

Spoken from the Heart - 142

it firmly and drawing a cry from Alex that tore at his
throat.

"Please -- anything. Oh, sweet light, anything!"
"Some men don't care for this activity," Julian said,

leaving the bed and making Alex twist his head to track
Julian's movements, bewilderment filling him. "I can see
their point. It can be painful and, if you'll forgive my
frankness, sometimes the passage is lacking in
cleanliness, which can be distasteful."

Alex had shoveled shit and dug outhouse pits for too

many years to be anything but matter-of-fact about
bodily functions. He shrugged, the brief respite allowing
him to gather his composure. The desperation that had
tinged his arousal faded somewhat, though his prick
remained hard as stone. "I dare say. What are you
doing?"

Julian lit a candle, the flame of it dazzling Alex's eyes

for a moment, then returned to the bed, a small bottle in
hand.

"Oil," he explained, easing the stopper out. "As you

discovered yourself, a dry fuck is painful -- for both
concerned, though mostly for the one being taken.
There's no need to mix pain with pleasure." He grinned
and pinched one of Alex's nipples. "Well, not if it's the
wrong kind of pain, anyway." He nodded down at Alex's
prick. "You're too big for me to take without something
to ease the way."

"Are you sure you wish this? I've never -- I might

hurt you."

"You might," Julian replied, and poured some of the

oil into his palm. "Which is why I'll stay on top, if that
suits you, and you'll allow me to direct you until such
time as we're beyond speech."

Spoken from the Heart - 143

"I'll do anything you say." Alex swallowed. "Just --

kiss me first? Please?" For all that Julian had welcomed
Alex into his bed without hesitation, there was
something a little brisk about his manner. Alex didn't
want the slight coolness between them to deepen to
indifference.

Julian hesitated, confirming Alex's suspicions Julian

would make love without caring too much if he was at
outs with his partner -- he had to have done so from time
to time with Marcus -- but that a kiss was less easily
given. After a searching look that Alex met fearlessly,
letting Julian see how much he needed the proof of
Julian's continued regard, Julian sighed as if in surrender
and gave Alex his kiss.

It was no token brush of lips. Julian was not a man to

give grudgingly, and his forgiveness was shown to be
complete, his mouth warm and hard against Alex's for
long enough that when the kiss ended, Alex's senses
were swimming, his lips tingling. He had the taste of
Julian in his mouth, the memory of the soft flicker of
Julian's tongue caressing his and the satisfaction of
knowing the kiss had shaken Julian too. There was
something startled in Julian's eyes as he pulled back to
stare down at Alex, his tongue passing over his lips as if
to capture the echo of the kiss.

Without a word, Julian straightened, straddling Alex's

thighs. He poured some oil into his palm and reached
behind, his face twisting in a grimace Alex wasn't fool
enough to mistake for discomfort. The way Julian's
mouth fell open on a gasp told him the sensation was
pleasurable. Alex had never pushed a finger inside his
hole, but he vowed to try it the next time he bathed.

Next, the oil was applied to his cock, stiff and eager.

The oil changed the familiar touch of a hand on his prick

Spoken from the Heart - 144

to a caress that came close to bringing him to
completion. Julian's fingers and palm gripped and slid,
spreading the warm oil from root to tip, rivulets of it
trickling down to coat his balls. Julian saw them and
smiled, shifting his attentions lower.

"Does that feel good?" he asked, massaging first one

then the other of Alex's balls, rolling them in his hand
and letting them slide free as they wished, recapturing
them with lazy ease.

"You must know it does," Alex replied, with as much

spirit as he could manage given he was fighting to hold
back his finish.

"And this?" Julian pushed his hand between Alex's

thighs, not to slide a finger inside Alex's hole, as he'd
half-expected, but to caress the smooth strip of skin
behind his balls. The firm press of a finger against it sent
a jolt of arousal though Alex, strong enough to make
him murmur Julian's name almost in protest. He'd never
known a touch there could bring such pleasure, but
Julian clearly had. To have Julian so knowledgeable
about Alex's body…he didn't resent it exactly, but it
made him wonder at himself and how timid he'd been in
learning his own body.

He wet his lips and reached out his hand waveringly

to cup Julian's face. "How do you know what to do to
me? How can you make me feel so undone so easily?"

Julian turned his head to kiss Alex's hand. "Truthfully,

I'm not doing anything to you that's out of the ordinary,
sweetheart. You've just never been with a lover who
cared about your pleasure as well as his. Foolish,
because both involved gain when delight is experienced
equally. But don't think of me as something special. I
hope I'm a satisfactory lover with some small skill, but
you could throw a stone in a crowd and be sure of

Spoken from the Heart - 145

striking someone just as capable of making your toes
curl as I."

"They are curling," Alex said with a grin. "How did

you know?"

Julian narrowed his eyes and, aided by the oil coating

his fingers, breached Alex's hole with a smooth stab,
wiping the smile from Alex's face as he writhed like a
hooked fish. "Oh Lady! Julian!"

"Mm-hmm." Julian sounded indecently pleased with

himself as he worked his finger in and out, slow,
shallow strokes that had Alex whimpering as he tried to
get Julian to push in deeper. "You'll like it when I fuck
you. I'll be so gentle with you, Pippin, so slow. You'll
curse me, bite and scratch at me, begging for me to take
you hard and fast, but I won't."

Alex set his jaw. "Maybe you will, but tonight it will

be me fucking you, Master Melville, and for all that
you're on top, it could be that you'll be doing some
begging of your own." With a defiant tilt of his chin, he
reached down and wrapped his hand around his cock,
noting with some pride it was indeed considerably
thicker than Julian's and an inch or two longer. Foolish
to feel proud over something that, like his green eyes,
had been gifted by the Lady, but he didn't think he was
the only man to feel that way.

He kept his touch light, feigning the act rather than

performing it, but even that was enough to make him
catch his breath on a groan.

"That," Julian said, knocking Alex's hand away with

a swift smack, "is for me. Leave it alone."

"If it's yours, why, take it," Alex taunted him, feeling

mischievous and conscious of a wellspring of happiness
bubbling up, quite distinct from his lust. It was in that
moment he realized both that he liked Julian and that he

Spoken from the Heart - 146

loved him. Buoyed up by his conviction, the events of
the day before -- for it was close to dawn -- ceased to
hold as much importance. It had been dreadful to sit
there with that booming voice branding him as a
criminal and worse, but Julian had not cared, beyond his
concern for Alex, and that was all that mattered.

"Trust me, I plan to do that very thing." Julian eyed it,

reminding Alex of a small boy he'd seen holding a slice
of pie too big for his mouth. "Do not, I beg of you, thrust
up. You'll split me wide enough as it is, and I have no
wish to be hobbling around, unable to sit comfortably
tomorrow."

"I promise."
Julian moved, poised himself so the head of Alex's

cock was nudging his hole, and bore down. His cry
blended with Alex's, and they stared at each other, all
merriment lost in the surge of desire.

"Lady, yes," Julian muttered and lowered himself,

gaining an inch and then ceding it back. Alex gritted his
teeth and reminded himself of his promise. He could see
now why Julian had asked it of him; the urge to fuck
was too basic to be denied. He wanted to be the one
thrusting, then withdrawing; he craved the delicious
friction and the sense of control.

Sweat pearled Julian's brow, his face tight. Silent but

for the harsh rasp of his breath, he was a glorious sight
in Alex's eyes, the strong body concentrating on one
goal, his face flushed, his nipples peaked. His prick was
darkly red, the exposed head shining, clear fluid
smeared across it, a single drop welling up as Alex
watched. Tired of his passivity, he ran his finger over
the crown and gathered the drop, wringing a moan from
Julian in the process.

Spoken from the Heart - 147

"Don't…touch me," Julian panted. "Ah, blood and

darkness--"

Alex sucked his finger clean, no intent to tease

behind the action, just sheer curiosity. The flavor was
too faint to make much impression, certainly not as
intense as that of Julian's seed. Julian closed his eyes
and sank still deeper.

The hot clench of Julian's body was like a fist around

Alex's shaft. Julian finally sheathed Alex's cock fully,
letting out a long groan, his head thrown back, and for
the first time in his life, Alex felt truly joined to another.
Foolish, inconsequential thoughts chased through his
head. He wondered what he would see if his prick had
eyes, then reflected it would surely be dark and wanted
to giggle. He felt the loss of the sight of his prick, buried
deep as it was, as if it was no longer attached to him.
Chiding himself, he brought his hands to Julian's hips,
caressing as much as holding them. Julian's eyes were
still closed, his breath rapid and shallow. Alex raised
himself up on one elbow and, with his increased reach,
slid his hand over Julian's ass and down to where they
were joined. He explored the taut, stretched skin of
Julian's hole, slick with oil, and when Julian hissed
through his teeth, Alex snatched his hand away, his
dreamy detachment vanishing as suddenly as a popped
soap bubble.

His prick was inside Julian. Inside. Lady save him,

but it felt incredible. He didn't even need Julian to move.
Julian's passage was continually clenching and releasing
around him, producing a delightful rippling effect, and
the heat was like nothing he could have imagined.

Moving seemed inevitable, though, and when Julian

rose and sank, gathering speed, Alex changed his mind
about the benefits of immobility. This was better. This

Spoken from the Heart - 148

was better by far. Cautiously, watching Julian's face for
any sigh of disapproval, he met Julian's descent with the
smallest lift of his ass. He waited anxiously, but Julian
only moaned his name, Encouraged, he did it again,
more enthusiastically this time. Julian grimaced and shot
him a glare that softened when he ground down.

"You can move, just…have a care."
Alex nodded and strove to meet, not anticipate, each

downward plunge. They soon found a rhythm, and he
discovered that now and then he could make Julian cry
out sharply, such longing in the sound that Alex wished
it was he who was being fucked, even though what he
was experiencing was clouding his senses with ecstasy.

Julian reached for Alex's hand, fumbling to grasp it,

and drew it to his prick. More than happy to be allowed
to touch what he'd been staring at, entranced, Alex
applied himself to his task, striving for a delicacy of
touch to spin out what they were enjoying. Too late, he
realized the heat and hardness against his palm, coupled
with the raw, musky scent of their aroused, sweating
bodies was enough to spur him to finish.

His hand clenched around Julian's cock, working it

with uneven, erratic strokes as his balls emptied and his
cock throbbed wildly. He wanted to watch Julian's face,
but his eyes squeezed shut despite himself and he
surrendered to the moment, dizzy with lust and love.

Warm wetness struck his stomach, and he forced his

eyes open in time to see another milk-white spurt spill
out. Julian's channel was close to painfully tight around
Alex's prick now, but he had no wish to withdraw, even
if it had been possible with Julian's weight on him.

Panting, trembling, Julian collapsed onto Alex,

nuzzling into his neck, murmuring soft words that spoke
of nothing but exhausted contentment. Alex embraced

Spoken from the Heart - 149

him tenderly, kissing what he could of Julian's face. He
was light and empty, ready to sleep again, but this
shared moment was too precious to wish over.

"I love you," he whispered into the dark hair so close

to his lips. Surely, after this, Julian would return his
love?"

"Sweet Pippin," Julian said, after a pause. "You were

everything I'd hoped you would be. I hope you found an
equal pleasure in what we did."

"I -- yes, of course."
"Excellent." Julian eased himself off Alex's softening

prick with a luxurious groan. "If you don't mind, I'll
make use of the bathroom first. I'll be quick, I promise. I
dare say you're longing to get to sleep."

A chill of disappointment went through Alex as

Julian left the room without more than a single quick
kiss, delivered to the tip of his nose.

When he came back upstairs after wiping the dried

white off his stomach, he found Julian's bedroom door
closed, the message clear.

Spoken from the Heart - 150

Chapter Eleven

"By the dark side, I'll not have it!"
Master Sampton's bellow was loud enough to reach

Duncan's workroom, but Julian, perched on a table,
munching a juicy pear and watching Alex work, didn't
even turn his head. Sampton lost his temper now and
then, but it was rarely for long.

Alex's pallor and disconsolate air concerned him

more. Julian had, he freely admitted, crushed the young
man's spirits by refusing to murmur back the words Alex
had so longed to hear and then making it clear he had no
wish to share his bed for more than lovemaking. He'd
hated the necessity, but he told himself he'd made it
plain to Alex that love was out of the question and
therefore he need feel no guilt.

He was fond of Alex, yes. The lad was as engaging as

a basket of kittens, showing flashes of a dry humor that
Julian appreciated. As a companion and lodger he was
ideal, and as a bedmate he was desirable to the point that
Julian had eyes for no one else. Alex's relative
innocence was coupled with a body -- and a prick -- that
promised untold delights, and like any man his age, he
was possessed of a close to insatiable appetite. Julian
had no doubt that if he'd left his bedroom door invitingly
ajar the night before, he would have found himself
cajoled into more bedsport.

Really, he was suffering here quite as much as Alex.

Julian wanted nothing more than to walk over to Alex
and kiss him, tasting the sweet fire of his lips and feeling
Alex's prick harden at the slightest brush of his fingers.
The theater had many dark corners where a couple could,
if they were quiet and swift, steal a shared moment. He
wanted to introduce Alex to them all.

Spoken from the Heart - 151

He would spoil, coddle, and fuck Alex as much as the

lad desired, but he would not lie and profess a love he
didn't feel. His years pandering to Marcus had left his
heart numb and even Alex's warmth could not thaw it,
he feared.

"What ails him?" Duncan said with a grunt, busy

mixing some foul-smelling glue over a small stove in
the corner.

"Who knows?" Julian finished his pear and tossed the

core into the stove, getting a scowl from Duncan as it
spat and sizzled. He licked the juice from his fingers and
tried not to eye the tempting curve of Alex's ass too
openly. He wanted to fuck that ass and soon, but if Alex
was still pouting that might prove difficult. Julian had no
intention of cajoling or begging Alex into stripping off
his clothes and bending over. He wanted a willing, eager
partner or none at all.

With an odd feeling of distaste at the mere thought of

it, he wondered if he should take another to his bed to
make Alex accept the unpalatable truth. No, that would
be cruel, and he had no wish, none, to hurt his Pippin
more than he was compelled to.

"He received a letter from the duke's secretary ten

minutes ago," Alex offered, his voice subdued but not
overly so. "I was passing his office when the messenger
came by and overheard him announce himself."

"He did?" Julian considered that nugget of

information, but couldn't decide what act of the duke's
had left Sampton in such a passion. It wasn't likely the
duke had decided to close all the theaters as the third
duke of Sorrent had in a fit of misplaced piety and zeal.
That had been a century ago, but the memory was a dark
one. The current duke held views tolerant enough to
please Julian, even if there was a worrying quirkiness to

Spoken from the Heart - 152

them. One never knew quite what the duke would do
next and where his fleeting enthusiasms would lead his
steps.

His curiosity was soon satisfied. A boy put his head

around the door, an impish grin on his face. Young Tom
was Sampton's grandson, learning the business from the
ground up. Julian found him insufferably conceited, but
with weary cynicism let none of his dislike show.
"Master Sampton's compliments, gentlemen. He wants
everyone on the stage. He's got an announcement to
make."

Duncan grunted. "This glue will set like stone if I

leave it." With a sigh, he pushed the pot off the stove
and covered it with a cloth. "Come, boy," he told Alex.
"Everyone means you, too."

Alex moved obediently toward the door, gifting

Julian with a single glance from under long lashes and a
hesitant smile that Julian returned with a sensation of
relief. As they made their way to the stage, he took
advantage of the stir and bustle around them to say
quietly, "Last night -- forgive me if I seemed distant. I
was exhausted, most pleasantly, to be sure, but I could
scarcely keep my eyes open."

Alex hunched his shoulder. "You need not coddle me.

I know why you acted the way you did. I promise I'll not
say that again if it disturbs you so to hear that you're
loved."

Alex's frankness left Julian with nothing to say. He

fell a step behind, watching Alex walk onto the stage
with his head high and his dignity intact. Gathering
himself, he moved to the front of the small crowd, as
befitted his status, and took his place beside Patrick.

"What news of your sister?" he asked, keeping his

voice low.

Spoken from the Heart - 153

Patrick shook his head, his eyes dull with fatigue.

"No change for the better. She hasn't eaten for days,
though from time to time she takes a swallow of broth or
water. Her struggle can't last much longer, I fear."

Julian had no easy words of sympathy. With a

speaking glance, he patted Patrick's arm. "May the Lady
watch over her," he said awkwardly.

It was with considerable relief that he greeted

Sampton's approach. The man strode to the front of the
stage and gave the assembled company a baleful look.

"Those of you with sawdust for brains will be glad to

hear that the duke, in his infinite wisdom, has decided
his daughter's birthday party would be incomplete with a
short performance by his favorite actors, namely, those
of the Pinnacle." A satisfied gleam in his eyes told
Julian that for all his bluster, Sampton was beyond
gratified at the compliment. "The party is in three days
time -- yes, I know -- and it seems Lady Helena has
expressed the desire to see the picnic scene from A Rake
and a Rogue."

Julian grinned. That scene was pure flirtatious froth

and romance. He'd once made Lady Helena sob; he
would welcome the chance to make her sigh and flutter
her lashes at him, were he chosen in the role of the Rake.
And who would play the Rogue, sweet Selina, the ward
of Lady Alicia, whose dimples, giggles, and golden
locks concealed her fierce longing for adventure?

"Master Melville. The part of the Rake is yours."

Julian bowed deeply, imperfectly concealing a grin.
"The Rogue will be played by Mistress Claire."

Behind him, Julian heard a hiss of disappointment

and a stifled shriek. He didn't need to turn to look to
know Melissa had received a reproving pinch from her
more successful friend.

Spoken from the Heart - 154

He listened, his attention elsewhere, as Sampton

assigned the other roles needed for the scene, but he was
jarred out of a mildly lecherous daydream featuring
Alex when the man's name was spoken.

"You can go with Duncan to help set the scene."
"Me? At court? Oh, sir, I could not--" Alex

stammered, clearly in an agony of shyness.

"You'll do as you told while I'm paying your wages,

boy! And mind you behave yourself and wear a clean
jerkin." Sampton drew in a deep breath. "We'll rehearse
the scene tonight after the evening performance. I'll
direct. Pick up a copy of the script at my office and
study it. I'll expect you to be off the book by tomorrow."

Julian rubbed his temple ruefully. He was word-

perfect in his current role, of course, and just as
confident in his part in Silence Falls, but learning more
lines at such short notice was far from ideal. Luckily,
he'd been the understudy for the Rogue, Master
Lovelace, a few years before, so it was more a case of
refreshing his memory than anything else.

Claire appeared at his shoulder, cooing with delight.

"To play at court! What an honor! Oh, I cannot believe
it! And for such a party. Why, they say Lady Helena's
gown has taken four seamstresses nigh on a month to
sew. It's made of cloth of silver and the neckline and
hem are sprinkled with black pearls."

"You will outshine every court beauty there," Julian

said gallantly, and kissed her hand as she blushed and
bridled prettily. "I look forward to rehearsing with you,
my dear."

"And I you." Her eyes sharpened. "I have played the

role before, and I felt my Lovelace was… let us just say
he lost sight that it's Selina who is the focus of the scene
and Lovelace her foil, don't you agree?"

Spoken from the Heart - 155

Julian widened his eyes. Attention-grabbing little

hussy. "But of course! Initially, at least. As the scene
progresses and he becomes aware of her secrets, though,
don't you feel the audience's interest is in his
discovery?"

"As to that--" Claire breathed in deeply, her eyes

glittering as she accepted his challenge. "Well, we shall
see how Master Sampton chooses to direct it."

He bowed, she curtseyed, and a moment later, Julian

was left with nothing but the overpowering scent of her
perfume. He wrinkled his nose, the cloying sweetness of
roses and honeysuckle not to his taste.

"Julian, I cannot -- you must see how impossible this

is!" Julian turned to find an agitated Alex at his elbow.

"I confess, I don't. You won't be seen. You'll set up a

makeshift stage in some room, and then you'll go with
Duncan and the rest of the people behind the scenes to
the kitchen to drink ale and eat the party food the cook
has kept back. After we've performed, you'll take down
what you put up and load it into the wagon. It'll be a
long night, but the duke will pay handsomely and you'll
receive a bonus this week. Master Sampton is a
generous man, even when he is put out, which he most
certainly is." Julian shook his head. "Three days to
prepare when we're rushed off our feet as it is! Ah, well,
we'll manage. We always do."

"He put me in the stocks." Alex's face was paper-

white. "I cannot -- no."

"He didn't; that miserly stall owner and the guard

did," Julian pointed out, reasonably enough, he thought.
"The duke doesn't know of you, will not recognize you
if, by a thousand to one chance your paths cross, and is
more concerned with making his daughter's coming of
age party go well. The Lady Helena is a beauty, and it's

Spoken from the Heart - 156

said she has a sweet nature, too." He cleared his throat.
"Did I ever tell you of how I made her weep with my
performance of--"

"Three times," Alex said curtly, and turned on his

heel.

Well! Julian drew in an outraged breath and then

released it with a forgiving sigh. Alex would be there or
be out of a job. Sampton was in too chancy a mood to be
indulgent of the lad's misgivings. Since it was out of the
question that Alex be thrown out of the theater, he
would just have to use all his persuasive charm to make
the man see reason.

So far, he'd been singularly unsuccessful in that, but

he had by no means given up.

***

Julian had visited the duke's castle as a child, when

the current duke's father had kept it a place of somber
grandeur. He recalled clinging to his father's hand and
being told sharply to take his thumb out of his mouth.
He forgot the occasion, but it had been some sop to the
merchants of the city, allowing them a few hours to stare
at their surroundings, puffed up with pride at their
invitation. The duke had appeared for a scant few
minutes, smiling with his mouth, not his eyes, and Julian
had left with his jaw aching from the yawns he'd
suppressed.

Nothing could enliven the stone walls, but flowers,

white and yellow, Lady Helena's favorite colors,
festooned the gates. It was a valiant effort to soften a
barrier men had bled to defend and hold in the past, but
Julian felt if stone could blush, the walls would be a
rosy-pink.

Spoken from the Heart - 157

The theater's finest two wagons rolled through the

gates after a cursory examination by the guards on duty,
and Julian cast a look at Alex. The lad had been quiet all
morning, as if resigned to his fate. Julian was still not
sure what words of his had cracked the stubborn shell
around Alex, but he only cared that Alex had, eventually,
seen reason and agreed to go to the castle.

Julian lent a hand with unloading the wagons. It

wasn't his job, but it was important that all be done with
dispatch and efficiency. They were only part of the
entertainment and, though no one had dared say so to
Master Sampton, obviously a last-minute addition. An
event like this should have been planned for weeks.
They most likely owed their appearance to a sudden
whim of Lady Helena's and were probably viewed as a
dreadful nuisance by a harried, busy set of servants.

They set up a simplified stage and backdrop in a

room that had been cleared of its usual furniture so that
rows of small, elegant chairs could be set out. They
looked fiendishly uncomfortable. In the front row, three
chairs stood out as being larger and cushioned. The duke,
Lady Helena, and the duke's son, Roland, would sit there,
Julian assumed, and rise without numb behinds or
cramped legs. Roland, a merry imp of a boy, not
noticeably affected by the loss of his mother some two
years before, was rarely called by his title of Lord
Northridge, but was known affectionately to courtiers
and the populace alike as Lord Rollo. Julian expected
him to be bored to death by the play, but for all his
sunny charm, the boy had been well-trained and
wouldn't show his boredom. Julian had never been
allowed to, and he wasn't noble.…

Alex worked with his usual diligence, but Julian

could see how often Alex glanced around, his eyes

Spoken from the Heart - 158

shadowed, and how he jumped when Duncan tapped his
shoulder. Torn between impatience and concern, Julian
could only be relieved when the work was complete and
they were sent to wait in a small room where their
costumes had been laid out on a long table. Smaller
tables held wooden boxes containing greasepaint, small
sponges, fine brushes, and gum for attaching false hair.
Julian was grateful his role did not demand he don a
moustache or a beard. The things tickled and itched and
removing them was a painful process that left his skin
red and dotted with scraps of gum.

A meal had been laid out for them, pitchers of ale and

watered wine, sliced chicken and ham, with fresh-baked
bread and baskets of apples, red as the bowls of cherries
beside them. Julian guessed even the lowliest castle
servant ate better, but the food, if simple, was plentiful
and tasty. He took Alex a plate and bullied him into
eating at least half of what was on it.

"You think me foolish." Alex spat a cherrystone into

his palm and dropped it onto his plate beside a crumbled
slice of bread.

"In some ways," Julian admitted. The windows were

open, bringing a warm breeze into the room. If the
breeze smelled a little too strongly of the nearby river,
low after a dry spring, it was still refreshing. "Under the
old duke, your back would be scarred, not just your
pride. Have you ever seen a public whipping? They're
enough to turn your stomach."

"In the Westerlings, we don't deal out punishments

like that. They're wasteful. Why leave someone unable
to work?"

"What do you do to those who steal or kill?"
Alex gave him a level stare. "We send them out of

our lands to the cities."

Spoken from the Heart - 159

For a moment, Julian believed him, then he saw the

glint in Alex's eyes. "How cruel of you."

"Isn't it?" Alex shook his head. "We don't tolerate

evil in any form. Those who endanger our community
are dealt with. Sometimes they're executed by poison --
I've seen two men die that way -- sometimes they're sent
to the coal mines. For other offenses, they're fined or
have their status revoked or reduced. Some can choose
to be branded and cast out, never to return. If a branded
person is found within the borders, they're sent to the
mines."

Julian absorbed that and decided that really it was no

harsher than the penalties dealt out in the rest of the
Realm.

"So don't expect me to be grateful," Alex added, his

face flushed with indignation now. "The penalty for
what I did at home -- well, nothing would've happened
to me, because there I'd committed no crime."

Julian shrugged. "You're here now," he pointed out.

"We do things differently."

"But not better!"
Julian held onto his temper, helped because he agreed

with Alex that the penalty meted out to him had been
absurdly harsh. "Perhaps not, but I wouldn't suggest you
tell the duke that if he ever asks your opinion of
Sorrent's laws."

Alex stood and walked away without a word, leaving

Julian to chew moodily at a crust of bread and wish he
could have first met Alex three hours sooner, when all
that ailed him was an empty stomach.

Spoken from the Heart - 160

Chapter Twelve

Alex hesitated, uncomfortably aware that he was not

only lost, but somewhere he most certainly should not
be, namely wandering hallways so richly furnished with
tapestries, carpets, and gilt-encrusted tables and chairs
that his eyes ached from the splendor.

It had seemed so simple a journey from the room

where the play was being staged to the room where he'd
spent the late afternoon and early evening, yet somehow
he'd taken the wrong turn. That wasn't his worst mistake.
Following the directions of a page who'd solemnly
reeled off a list of instructions that Alex realized too late
were designed to mislead and confuse -- now, that
qualified.

Panic filled him. If he was found, he'd be accused of

looking for something to steal. If his previous offense
was discovered, he would be in trouble so deep no one
would be able to save him, not even Julian. He quelled
the urge to run, fearing he would collide with a table and
knock it over, and took a deep breath. A window. If he
could find one and look out of it, at least he'd know
which side of the castle he was in. North was where the
entrance gate lay, and the theater was in the eastern wing.

With fresh purpose, he walked quickly down the

corridor and rounded the corner, only to bump into a
lady who gasped, her hands rising to ward him off.

"My -- my apologies!" Alex stepped back, his heart

pounding so much he could scarcely breathe. "I intended
no harm, I swear." He bowed low and stayed down there,
sweat damp on his back.

A rich chuckle brought his head up, and he

straightened, getting his first look at the lady. Dark hair
piled high in intricate, glossy waves, pearls braided

Spoken from the Heart - 161

through it, midnight-dark eyes and red lips… It was the
lady who'd driven past him in her carriage, as
exquisitely beautiful a foot away as she had been seen
from the street.

"You're a bold one to be sure." Her voice was a sweet

lilt. "Deep inside the duke's own wing, charging around
like a fly-maddened bull… If you weren't so delightfully
tall and muscular, one might be tempted to call for the
guards."

"Please --" Alex swallowed. "I was lost -- a page --

he misled me on purpose, I fear. I wish only to find my
way to where the play is being held for Lady Helena."

"Why? It's not for the likes of you."
"No, of course not." He tried to smile, but his lips

went awry. "I'm supposed to help take down the set
when the play is over."

"It finished some time ago. I think you've been lost

for longer than you think."

"Oh, Lady save me!" Julian would be looking for him,

worried.

"Are you talking to me or the Lady above?" The

woman moved closer, the curves of her breasts paler
than the white silk of her gown. "Without wishing to be
thought lacking in respect to Her, it seems I could be of
more immediate help. I know the way out of this maze,
you see. Why don't you pray to me? Or am I not fair
enough in your eyes?"

Alex couldn't help smiling at that idea, even panicked

as he was. "I saw you once before. You drove past me in
a silver carriage and I thought--"

A slender ebony eyebrow rose. "Hmm? You

thought?"

"That you were the most beautiful lady I'd ever seen.

You were like a white rose in the moonlight." Alex

Spoken from the Heart - 162

shook his head impatiently. "Forgive me. That doesn't
come close to doing you justice."

She laughed, an edge to it, a hint of satisfaction

peeping through the sweetness. "It's a start," she said.
"Do you always pray standing up?"

Alex met her eyes for a moment and saw no mercy

there. He went to his knees and bowed his head, sick
with shame. To kneel to another was unheard of in the
Westerlings. All were equal in the essential sense.
Higher status didn't force a matching subservience on
others, but gave the bearer additional responsibilities.
He'd never humbled himself like this before. "Please,
my lady," he whispered. "Take pity on my plight, I beg
you."

A pearl-white satin slipper, pointed of toe, high of

heel, was thrust out from under her silk skirts. "Show me
how penitent you are."

He could not do that. He would not. Though the

slipper was bright with diamond chips and silver thread,
it was still a slipper. The unfairness of her demands
made him choke with fury. This city…these people…
They had no sense of decency, no heart.

Like a cool hand on his brow, he thought of Julian,

and after Julian, his friends at the theater. Very well,
he'd been unjust. There were plenty here who he was
proud to count as friends -- but that didn't mean he was
prepared to grovel to this woman.

Lady, save me, he thought, and his prayer was

directed at the true Lady, not the woman before him.

Salvation came so promptly he was left with his

mouth hanging open in shock.

"Playing with your food again, Lady Stacia?"
Marmaduke Stellforth walked up to them, his

clothing as outmoded as it had been at the theater, and

Spoken from the Heart - 163

yet somehow not out of place. A thin smile curved his
lips, but Alex could see the disdain in his eyes.

Lady Stacia recovered quickly. "Exacting tribute,

perhaps."

Master Stellforth inclined his head. "No more than

your due, I'm sure." His gaze passed over Alex with a
chilly indifference that warned Alex to silence. "Is he
bothering you? I'll call a guard. I believe one's close by."

Despair closed Alex's throat, stifling him. A choked

moan rose, loud in his head, but no more than a sigh to
his ears.

"A guard? No. He's just a simpleton who lost his way

because he was foolish enough to trust a page's lying
tongue -- and I'll swear I know which one."

"So he says." The scorn in Stellforth's voice was

brittle, like ice. "Really, my dear, I do think he should be
taught a lesson for his presumption."

She drew in a swift breath, anger bringing color to

her cheeks. "I believe I recognize presumption when I
see it, Master Stellforth. He's done no harm, and he's
quite the poet." She nudged Alex's thigh with her foot.
"Tell me, boy, did you speak truthfully when you said I
was like -- ah, what was it now? A white rose, yes, that
was it."

Alex composed himself. Flattery would taste foul

given his feelings toward the lady, but he'd swallow the
dose down, along with his pride, if it kept his skin whole
-- though his self-respect was in tatters.

"Forgive me, my lady, but I believe now I was

mistaken."

"Oh?" Her voice was sharp with anger tinged with

embarrassment "How so?"

He looked up at her, putting every ounce of charm he

possessed into his smile. Julian had told him it was

Spoken from the Heart - 164

irresistible, and he hoped his friend had spoken the truth.
"If you were to hold a white rose to your face, the petals
would droop with envy. A moonbeam, sea-foam, the
pearls in your hair -- it would be wrong of me to liken
you to any of them. Your beauty is incomparable."

She gave a crow of laughter and clapped her hands

together. "Not a poet, but a courtier! Oh, you most
certainly do belong here, my boy, but I think, yes, I
think it's best you leave."

Alex bowed his head again. "My lady."
Stellforth cleared his throat. "I'll see the boy is sent

back where he belongs, Lady Stacia. I am charged with
a message from the duke. He desires your presence in
the ballroom. The dancing will begin shortly, and he
knows how much you enjoy it."

"My brother is so thoughtful, always," she murmured.

"Very well."

A handkerchief, snow-white with a silver "S"

embroidered on it, fell to the floor in front of Alex. "A
token," Lady Stacia said. "Should any challenge you, it
will tell them you are under my protection."

If they don't assume I stole it and arrest me before I

can explain, Alex thought dourly, but he picked it up
and gave her a dazzled, reverent smile of thanks.

She left with a rustle of silk, her heels tapping softly

against the carpet, and Alex exhaled, close to throwing
up from nervousness.

"You," Stellforth said slowly, "are either the luckiest

of men or the most unfortunate. I cannot decide which.
That encounter could have cost you dearly."

Alex got to his feet and swayed, dizzy with relief.

"Trust me, sir, I'm aware of the danger I was in. You
said once I could call on you for help. I pray you -- tell

Spoken from the Heart - 165

me how to get to safety. I'm supposed to be helping to
take down the stage set."

"The players have left. I saw the wagons go through

the gate."

Alex moaned. "Oh, Lady save me, I'm in such

trouble."

"Come, follow me," Stellforth ordered.
They hurried back the way that Alex had come until

they reached a door, half-hidden in a corner. Stellforth
opened it, revealing a narrow stairway. "This is the way
the servants move around the castle without being seen
by the nobles. The tunnels and stairways are even more
of a maze than the main corridors, but this leads directly
to the kitchens. I will see you home in my carriage. I'm
not one for dancing and I've already taken my leave of
the Lady Helena."

***

"You're so kind," Alex said some thirty minutes later,

huddled into a corner of the most antiquated carriage
he'd ever seen, perched high above the ground, its
wheels enormous. His heart had slowed to normal, but
his mouth tasted of metal and his clothes clung to him,
damp with sweat. "I'm in your debt and I do not know
how I can ever repay you, but I promise I will try."

"As to that, I'd have done the same for any poor

wretch at Lady Stacia's mercy. She's not known for her
kindness, though she's capable of great generosity at
times. An interesting woman, but she's skirted scandal
too often for the duke's liking. She's a widow. Her
husband died in rather strange, ah…yes. Well. Never
mind that." Stellforth coughed and glanced out of the
window. "I don't think she would have handed you over

Spoken from the Heart - 166

to the guards, but telling her I thought she should was a
guarantee of that. She can't abide being told what to do."

Alex sighed. "I was so frightened," he confessed. "If

I'd been arrested--"

"Yes, yes," Stellforth said hastily. "No need to dwell

on that, either."

"No, sir," Alex said obediently, wishing for the

comfort of Julian's presence. He hoped Julian would be
at home. The evening performance of Ardent Hearts had
gone on as usual, featuring understudies where needed,
but Julian might have returned to the theater in search of
him.

He wondered if he still had a job. It would be ironic if

in going to the castle under threat of losing it, he'd
forfeited it anyway.

"The address you gave my coachman…you're still

living with Master Melville, I take it?"

The elaborate unconcern in Stellforth's voice made

Alex's wits sharpen. He hadn't told Stellforth that he was
staying with Julian when they'd met at the theater.
Stellforth had to have made inquiries about him to know
that.

"I rent a room from him, yes."
The sudden reserve in his voice didn't escape

Stellforth, who gave him a measuring glance. "We're
almost at our destination, young man, so I'll be
astonishingly brief for a lawyer. You say you wish to
repay me. Do so by persuading Julian to admit me and
listen to what I have to say. No, don't play the puzzled
innocent with me. You must know he and I have been
estranged for many years. Your face is too easy to read
for you to make a good liar." He blinked reflectively. "I
think that, more than anything else, saved you tonight,

Spoken from the Heart - 167

though I confess to being surprised you found the lady
beautiful when your interests lie elsewhere."

Alex floundered for a moment, then answered the

final part of Stellforth's speech first. "I don't desire her,
or any woman, for that matter, but I'm not blind. She is
beautiful. As to Julian -- yes, I know how matters stand
between you. I'm not sure about the rest. He was…not
pleased when I told him of our meeting, and I cannot
find it in me to blame him." Alex leaned forward,
searching Stellforth's face for the truth, though the
carriage, lit by the glow of the lamps swinging from the
roof outside, was full of shadows. "Did you set his father
against him and cause their separation? Did you really
do that, sir?"

Stellforth passed his hand over his eyes. "Such

reproach, such righteous indignation!" he murmured.
"Things are rarely simple, young Alex. Did I share my
belief the stage was no place for a gentleman? Yes. I
believe it still. Did I encourage John to cut Julian off in
the hope it would bring him to his senses? Again, yes.
But in all I did, John agreed with me. He felt as strongly
as I, he was as angry as I. He lost the heir to his business
and a match between our families that we'd planned for
years came to nothing."

"Your plans!" Alex retorted. "What of his?"
"Until he came down with the acting fever, he was as

much in favor of them as we were." Stellforth pursed his
lips. "Well…perhaps not of marrying my daughter, but
that's a separate issue. For that, no blame attached.
When he realized his nature fully, he was frank about it,
as a gentleman should be, and I thought none the worse
of him for that."

"I will not lend you my support to get you though his

door," Alex said. "I'm not sure I could even if I tried. I --

Spoken from the Heart - 168

I have a deep regard for him, but he sees me only as a
new friend, no more than that. My persuasions would
carry no great weight."

"I ask only that you try. I would consider your debt to

me repaid if you did."

Alex struck his thigh with his fist, frustration boiling

up. "You put me in an impossible situation, sir! I want to
repay you, but my first loyalty is to him. I'm torn. You --
you're unfair."

"I'm an old man, with few years left and many regrets.

That Julian and I are at outs when he's all I have to
remind me of my dearest friend -- that troubles me. I
would make this right."

The carriage rocked its way over the cobblestones,

swaying from side to side, the springs creaking. Alex
was sick from worry and doubt, his thoughts darting this
way and that, like a minnow in the water. He liked
Stellforth, though he was beginning to see the man was
playing a deep game, and he did think Julian had heaped
blame too generously upon the man's shoulders. Even so,
by Stellforth's own admission, he'd fostered the breach
between father and son….

Finally, his voice low and troubled, he said

reluctantly, "I will ask him if he will receive you. I will
urge him to give you the chance to explain yourself. If
he refuses, I will not push your cause further. Don't ask
it of me."

"Thank you," Stellforth said simply. "If you do that, I

will consider matters between us settled."

Without answering, Alex slumped back against seats

cushioned in red velvet that had long since lost its nap
and had faded to a pinkish-gray. The day had been
horrible from start to finish, and he would wish it over

Spoken from the Heart - 169

were it not that the morning would bring even more
troubles upon him.

A pang of homesickness stabbed him, and he closed

his eyes, picturing the fields of home, wheat soughing in
the evening breeze, an owl hooting mournfully from the
woods he knew so well. In that moment, he regretted
leaving more than he ever had, but when the carriage
pulled up outside Julian's narrow, red-brick house, he
felt that here was truly home.

It was most confusing.

Spoken from the Heart - 170

Chapter Thirteen

Hearing the carriage come to a halt outside his house

sent Julian flying to the door, hope vying with worry.
He'd been forced to leave the castle with the rest of the
players and hadn't dared make too much fuss about
Alex's absence. The guards didn't need to know a young
man was wandering around the castle. They'd hunt him
down, not seek him out. Duncan had been grim-faced
and tight-lipped when Alex hadn't shown up to help with
the sets, but Julian had taken his place and placated
Duncan to a certain extent. If it was enough to save
Alex's job, he didn't know. Sampton had been too busy
fretting over perceived shortcomings in the scene to
seem to notice he was missing a member of the
company, but Sampton noticed everything.

Seeing Alex get out of the carriage, his skin whole, a

tentative smile on his face, wiped out relief and left
Julian prey to pardonable irritation.

"Where in the name of the Lady have you been, you

thoughtless, scatterbrained--" He broke off his tirade
when he saw the small, slight figure behind Alex, shock
silencing him for a moment before outrage restored his
voice. "No. No, sir, you are not welcome here."

"He helped me," Alex said, in a tired, flat voice.

"Please, Julian. Let him come in. Let him speak to you.
Without his help, I'd be in a dungeon now, waiting for
them to decide when to strip the flesh from my back or
worse."

Addressing Stellforth, not Alex, Julian said coldly,

"To use gratitude as a lever -- I would once have thought
that beneath you. Now, it doesn't surprise me at all."

Stellforth walked forward, his face older than Julian

remembered, though of course it had been many years

Spoken from the Heart - 171

since Julian had seen him. "I rescued him because I have
a liking for him, but I'd be a fool not to turn a favor
owed to my advantage."

"He owes you, not I."
"Julian." Alex put his hand on Julian's arm. "I told

him I wouldn't persuade you, but I think you need to at
least hear him out."

"Do you?" He shook his arm, dislodging Alex's hand

as if it was a spider crawling on him. To have Alex
range himself beside Stellforth! After the hours Julian
had spent fretting over him, too. "I disagree, I'm afraid."

Alex gave him a stricken look, but Julian was past

caring about who he hurt when his heart was beating
unevenly, his mouth dry with remembered bitterness and
regret.

"You must do as you see fit," Alex said, his voice

subdued. "Am I still welcome here, or should I collect
what I own and leave you?"

"Oh, get inside, you young fool," Julian snapped, and

dragged Alex through the door bodily. He gave
Stellforth a fulminating glance. "You've cost me dearly
in the past. I'll not allow you to come between Alex and
me."

"That is not my intention." Stellforth inclined his

head, his hat in his hand. "The boy is loyal to you.
You're to be congratulated on inspiring such devotion."

"I saved him, as you apparently did, too, no more

than that. He's green as spring grass and falls into
trouble and love with equal ease."

"Yes, I think had I not chanced upon him when I did,

Lady Stacia would have taken great delight in exploiting
his rather charming innocence."

Julian gaped at him, then turned to stare at Alex, who

was standing, irresolute, at the foot of the stairs. "Lady

Spoken from the Heart - 172

Stacia? Blood and shit, are you mad? What possessed
you to -- never mind. You can tell me later." He rounded
on Stellforth, fuming at the obligation he was under. It
was no legal tie, but Alex, well, Alex was his, and just
as Julian would've revenged a slight to him, or honored
a debt, so too was he forced to acknowledge gratitude
toward a man he loathed. "Very well. You may enter
and state your business, but I warn you, my patience is
close to its end." He cast a scowl at Alex. "It has been a
night I wish to forget in many ways."

Not the least, being upstaged twice by Claire, the

attention-seeking little minx. She'd ruined Julian's best
speech by flirting shamelessly with a nobleman in the
audience, pouting prettily at him over her fan and
tossing her head with a blush when he applauded her --
in the middle of Julian's monologue!

Alex might have been in trouble -- Claire was in

disgrace.

Julian allowed Stellforth to come in and took him

into the little-used formal parlor, not out of deference to
his rank or age, but because he didn't wish to taint the air
of the room he preferred. With chill courtesy, he
gestured to the best seat, though he could not bring
himself to offer the refreshment custom demanded.

Stellforth sat, a wince telling Julian the act was

painful. He didn't allow himself to feel even a morsel of
sympathy for old bones.

"I've often wished for the opportunity to make things

right between us, but you returned my letters unopened,
and I feared should I come to your door, I would be met
with its closing."

"You would have been correct had you not furnished

yourself with a key."

Spoken from the Heart - 173

Alex had retreated upstairs, giving them privacy.

Julian was glad of it. It meant he had no need to curb his
tongue. He remained standing, leaning against the
mantelpiece in a casual pose, very much at his ease on
the surface.

"I owe you an apology." The simplicity of the words

was unexpected coming from Stellforth, who had a
lawyer's knack for complication. "I didn't trust you to
know what was best for you, and I encouraged your
father when I could have used my influence with him to
mellow his views. That I did not was because I -- we --
both felt your desire to be an actor was a young man's
whim, foolish, rebellious, if natural given your age. I
was wrong and so was he, but you have accepted an
apology only from one of us. Why is that, Julian? We
were always such good friends, you and I."

The quiet voice shook a little on the final words, and

Julian fancied he saw the gleam of tears in the faded
gray eyes.

"To be betrayed by a friend cuts deep."
Stellforth nodded slowly. "True."
"And my father -- so many years estranged! You

persuaded him to cut me out of his life -- and his will,
not that I care about that. You know you did."

"I thought -- we both did -- it would bring you to

your senses. It was never intended to be a lasting
severance of relations. Then we heard you'd left the city
with a touring company and it was many months before
you returned."

"I had to feed myself, and my wages were, well, they

were sufficient to do that, at least. I learned my craft in
those months -- and how to fend for myself without the
shelter of my father's money and influence."

Spoken from the Heart - 174

"It did you good. I salute you. Yet when you returned,

if you had been more amenable to your father's
advances--"

"I was in no mood to beg for what should never have

been taken from me -- his love, his regard --" Julian
swallowed, compelling his voice not to shake. "You
cannot make it right. Too much was said or left unsaid.
It's over. He's dead, and I thank the Lady we reconciled
before the end, but between you and I there can be no--"

"Would you come if I was on my deathbed and

forgive me then?" Stellforth snapped, rising to his feet.

Taken aback, Julian shrugged. "Why -- I, I suppose--

"

"Yes, of course you would! Approaching death

softens the hardest heart and much good it would do
either of us then. I seek your forgiveness now, you silly
young pup. Mistakes were made, aye, but you're all have
I left of him, and I won't go to the Lady and meet him
with no more to say than, 'Well, John, I tried, but your
son was too stubborn for me.' Tchah. He'd laugh in my
face."

Despite himself, a reluctant smile found its way onto

Julian's lips. He'd missed Marmaduke's trenchant humor.
"He always said you never gave up, no matter what the
odds against you."

"And it's as much a failing as anything, but it's who I

am. Now, I won't rush you, Julian, my boy, but I'm
getting no younger and neither are you. Think on what
I've said and believe I never intended it to go as it did. I
was wrong. There! Not many hear that from me. You're
a good actor, and given time, you'll be a great one.
Galliero has left a space you're more than capable of
filling if you could but curb your habit of taking roles
that amuse you instead of ones that challenge you."

Spoken from the Heart - 175

"I do not! Why, I was all but on my knees to Master

Sampton begging to be allowed to play King Henry in
Silence Falls," Julian protested, before he could
remember he loathed Marmaduke.

"Too young."
"I am not--" Julian shook his head, the urge to tear at

his hair battling with the most absurd need to laugh as if
a weight had been lifted. "We will agree to differ, sir.
And now I think I must bid you good evening. I have
matters to discuss with Alex that will not keep."

"I'm sure you do." There was an amused, knowing

glint in Marmaduke's eyes. "Will you take my hand,
Julian?"

Julian sighed and succumbed to the charm of a man

he'd adored as a child. "Oh, very well." Somehow, the
hand clasp became an embrace, quick and awkward, but
promising a better understanding soon.

"And you'll forgive the boy for his part in bringing

me here?" Marmaduke said, after Julian had helped him
into his carriage.

Julian glanced at the house where Alex was no doubt

waiting for judgment to fall. "He has done so much that
needs forgiving tonight that I think this small matter will
be a leaf lost in a forest," he said, a little grimly. He
bowed. "Your servant, sir."

"Dear boy," Marmaduke said with a sigh. "We must

talk again soon. I have more to say to you, but this is not
the time. No rush, no rush, not now." He banged on the
door with his fist. "Driver! Home!"

Julian watched the carriage sway and lumber out of

sight, puzzling over what else Marmaduke could have to
say to him, then shrugged and walked back inside his
house.

Time for a reckoning.

Spoken from the Heart - 176

Alex was sitting perched on the edge of his bed, his

hands linked in his lap, his head down, the picture of
contrition. Julian had sat just so waiting for his sentence
from an annoyed parent on many an occasion, and for
the second time in as many minutes, he gave a reluctant
smile. He took care to wipe it from his face when Alex
glanced up and let the silence between them grow until
the air between them was thick with tension. Alex had
partially undressed. His feet were bare, his shirt a pale
splash on the floor

When Alex was visibly fidgeting, clearly wanting to

speak, but unsure of what to say, Julian judged it time to
begin. "Lady Stacia, hmm? I didn't realize you were one
of those who like to kneel and beg for pain. My
apologies if you've found our lovemaking to be
somewhat lacking in spice."

Heat flamed in Alex's cheeks. "You know perfectly

well I don't."

"That wouldn't matter to her. Your arousal wouldn't

be necessary to her enjoyment."

Alex frowned and gestured down at his groin. "But --

if I wasn't hard -- and my balls were drawn up as tight as
if I'd been swimming in ice water, let me tell you -- then
how could we fuck?"

Julian shook his head. "You're so innocent. Leave it,

Pippin, and tell me what in the name of the darkest night
you were doing wandering off like that!"

His voice rose to a bellow, his control snapping as his

imagination painted a vivid picture in blood-red and
bruise-blue. Stacia would have tied those strong wrists
and ankles with pretty silken cords, then taken Alex
apart, stroke by stroke, with a whip, playing with him,
smiling over every scream. Some men liked her games,
though Julian had never fathomed why. He was too

Spoken from the Heart - 177

sophisticated not to be aware pleasure could be reached
from many directions, but Stacia's path was too narrow
for any but her to walk it. His easy acceptance of those
who desired the sweet fire of a well-spanked ass before
being fucked -- or enjoyed dealing one out -- didn't
extend to Stacia's perversions. She tortured and gloried
in it. The thought of Alex at her mercy--

"I was lost. A page sent me astray," Alex said wearily,

as if he was tired of saying it. "I found myself in the
duke's wing, and then I bumped into the lady. She--"
The heat drained from his face. "She made me kneel.
Made me beg. I had reached my limit when Master
Stellforth arrived. I don't know how it was that she took
pity on me, but I think she liked me. Or what I said." He
met Julian's eyes. "I would not have done what she
wished. I was about to tell her. I don't think she
would've liked to hear that."

Julian exhaled, his knees weak. "Oh, Lady, Pippin. If

you'd said that you'd have disappeared. She has guards
who would have flayed you for her while she watched,
sipping wine and smiling. I would have lost you."

"I'm sorry--" Alex shook his head, interrupting

himself. "No. I won't apologize. I did nothing wrong."

"Oh, Pippin, you never do," Julian said with a groan.

"I want to pack you back to the Westerlings and tell
your parents to keep you there until you grow up."

"Excuse me?" Alex rose to his feet, his brows

together in a frown. "It was not my fault!"

"Tell that to Sampton, if he'll hold still and listen!

You may well have lost your job, you idiot, and if you
escaped from Lady Nightshade, don't think you'll be as
lucky with him."

"'Lady Nightshade?'" Alex grimaced. "Is that how

she's known? I called her a white rose."

Spoken from the Heart - 178

Julian rolled his eyes at that. A rose with thorns

dipped in poison, maybe. "Honey-tongued, aren't you?"

Alex tilted up his chin, all defiance now. Julian

suspected both of them were suffering from a reaction to
the stress of the day. For him, it was manifesting with a
jittery energy, swift-burning and hot. For Alex…well,
judging by the belligerent stance, Alex wanted to punch
someone, to fight back as he'd been unable to do with
Lady Stacia. Julian didn't intend to volunteer as his
target. He could think of better ways for both of them to
calm down. Like getting naked together.

"Kiss me and find out," Alex said, the words a

challenge.

Julian smiled as Alex echoed what he'd been thinking

and felt arousal build within him. He planned to do a lot
more than kiss Alex, and he didn't feel in the mood to be
gentle. If Alex wouldn't apologize for what he'd put
Julian through, let him whimper and mewl instead as he
was fucked. It would sound as sweet.

"A kiss?" he asked, advancing on Alex and trapping

him by the bed. "Is that all you want, Pippin?" Alex's
lips parted as if in invitation, his green eyes challenging
Julian as his words had done. "Very well."

Julian touched his lips to Alex's and let his tongue

flick lightly, contemptuously, into the warmth of Alex's
mouth. He'd planned the kiss as a rebuke, but he'd
reckoned without the way the taste of Alex made him
crave more, a wild yearning that drove him to crush their
lips together.

He thrust his tongue deeper, seeking more of the

intoxicating, arousing taste, and was shocked when his
tongue was bitten, hard.

Spoken from the Heart - 179

"Brat," he murmured, and leaned in to do it again,

willing to risk the scrape of Alex's sharp teeth if it got
him more of what he wanted.

This time, Alex jerked his head away, averting it so

his mouth was out of reach. For a moment, Julian was
concerned. Was Alex unwilling then, too upset about the
events of the night to want to find respite this way? He
stepped back, wiping an unsteady hand over his mouth.

"If I've offended you--" He paused. The angled head

was offering him a smooth neck to kiss or bite in place
of Alex's mouth, and Alex wasn't trying to move away,
even though he could easily have darted past Julian or
scrambled over the bed.

Ah. He'd played these games with Marcus. They

weren't entirely to his taste, but he knew the rules.
Doubtful Alex did, though. The lad was operating on
pure instinct. It was foolish of him when he could have
asked for what he needed, but a hard prick -- and Alex's
was like iron -- was a stranger to common sense.

Leaving his sentence incomplete, Julian took a

handful of Alex's hair -- so silky, so thick, the color
vivid enough it felt as though his hand should be left
burned -- and used his grip to drag that mouth back to
where it could be kissed. "You asked for this," he
reminded Alex, their lips so close that each exhaled
breath from Alex warmed Julian's face. "Bite me again,
and I'll return the favor."

Alex achieved a creditable sneer. "You think I'll let

you do anything to me. Use me, take me--"

The last words sounded more like instructions than a

complaint.

"I think it's time you found out what it's like to enjoy

having a cock inside your ass." Julian grinned at him.
"I'll enjoy putting it there."

Spoken from the Heart - 180

He kissed Alex hard, bruising the soft mouth. Alex

melted against him in surrender for a split second. A
moment later, Alex was twisting away, his doubled-up
fist delivering a stinging punch to Julian's ribs.

"You think I'll roll over for you with a smile, beg for

your prick? I won't!"

"You'll beg for more than that, Pippin."
"Don't call me that!"
"Why?" Julian advanced on him, purposely driving

him toward the door. He wanted Alex in his bedroom,
with the larger bed and the bottle of oil at hand to ease
the way. Alex was too untried to be taken dry. "It brings
back memories of you on your knees, your mouth sweet
and hot around my prick."

That was a cruel blow to strike, but Alex needed

justification for the damage his fists inflicted as he flew
at Julian, arms windmilling wildly. He was young and
strong, but woefully unused to fighting. Julian, who'd
learned how to end a fight swiftly, the lesson taught in
several taverns and alleys, could have had Alex on the
ground puking or gasping for breath within a minute. He
chose instead to dodge the blows, returning them when
he could do so without inflicting more than a
momentary flash of pain.

They fought their way out into the hallway and into

Julian's room, the journey enlivened by a steady stream
of cursing from Alex, whose vocabulary had increased
considerably during his time working at the theater.

"Foul-mouthed brat," Julian remarked dispassionately,

and shoved Alex onto the bed. "To think I let it suck my
prick."

Alex tried to struggle up, but Julian was on him by

then, using every trick he knew to subdue the wildcat
under him.

Spoken from the Heart - 181

"No! You can't make me do it!" Alex's eyes were

glazed over, seeing someone who wasn't there. "I will
not do it."

Julian slapped his face, lightly enough that not even a

flush rose to the thin cheek, hard enough to have Alex
blinking up at him, his focus finally on Julian.

"Pippin, what we do here will always be what you

want." He didn't let go of the wrist he held in his other
hand -- not yet, not quite yet -- but he gentled his grip.
"Always, Alex."

With a sob, Alex raised his head, seeking a kiss

Julian was only too happy to give him.

They rolled to their sides, Alex clinging to him, their

kisses filled with passion of a different sort now, as
strong and clear as swiftly running water. Julian felt it
cleanse him, rinse away the residual anger and the agony
of the time he'd spent picturing Alex taken by the guards.
Alex settled down, his shivers quieting until he was
pressed up against Julian as close as he could get.

"If it's as you say, if I can ask for what I want…"
"Always," Julian vowed recklessly.
"Then take me." There was no hesitation in Alex's

expression or voice. "I want to know what it feels like
when it doesn't hurt."

"It might still--" Julian broke off. If it took him an

hour to get his prick inside Alex, he'd spend that time
willingly. He stroked Alex's face, tenderness filling him.
"When I saw you arrive with Stellforth, I was so angry
with you," he murmured. "I can't stay that way for long.
You soften me."

Alex pushed his hand between them, boldly cupping

the thrust of Julian's prick through his breeches. "I hope
not."

Spoken from the Heart - 182

Surprised into a laugh, Julian swatted Alex's ass.

"Brat. Get undressed, then, and we'll see if we can't
make this day end well at least."

It didn't take an hour to ease inside Alex and reduce

him to a sighed breath and a whimper, but it did take
half that time for Julian to realize a single finger was all
Alex could take, even with a small lake of oil to ease the
way. Alex's lips assured him it was what he wanted, but
his body was locked tight.

Julian worked his finger in eventually, with Alex

urging him on through gritted teeth, his eyes screwed
shut with frustration, then bent over to take Alex's cock
into his mouth. Like his, it was a limp curl of exhausted
flesh by then, but he coaxed it hard and let his finger
pump slowly in and out of the smooth, heated channel.

"I just can't -- I want to, but I can't-- I'm sorry I've

spoiled everything."

Julian raised his head and sent Alex a glare, then let

Alex's cock slip free. "That you can still talk is an insult
to my technique. I'll overlook it this once. Lie back,
enjoy what I'm doing, and leave the regrets and repining
not for what you could not do but for what you did not
try."

"Is that a quotation?"
"It is, but send me to the dark if I remember where

from." Julian bit the point of Alex's hipbone reprovingly.
"Well? May I continue, or do you have more apologies
with which to bore me?"

Alex smiled at him, a real smile now, not a brave

grimace. "'Sir, if you stop, my heart will be broken. Pray
continue and let -- um, and let--'"

"'Let fortune favor your endeavors as much as they

deserve.'" Julian finished the line from Ardent Hearts
and returned to a task he enjoyed, refusing to entertain a

Spoken from the Heart - 183

single fear Alex would never be able to take his prick
deep inside him. It would happen, and if it did not, why,
it wasn't important.

There was so much else they could do, after all.

Spoken from the Heart - 184

Chapter Fourteen

"So you're here to plead for the boy, too, are you?"

Sampton laced his fingers over his belly and gave Julian
a sour look. "I've already had Duncan in here,
sharpening his tongue on me because I wouldn't see the
idle good-for-naught."

"I am, yes, but if you'd just see him, then I'm sure he

could--"

"Not interested in talking to him or hearing his

excuses."

"By the Lady!" Julian cried, allowing his artistic

temperament free rein. "It comes to something when a
man is given no chance to explain his actions!"

Unmoved by Julian's raised voice and the stamp of

his foot, Sampton brought his hands together in politely
ironic applause. "Your delivery is, as ever, impeccable.
Your cause, however, is lost from the start. Go to
rehearsal, Master Melville. That is what I pay you for, is
it not? Acting? I didn't hire you as a lawyer? No?"

"Alex is a friend of mine--"
"I've heard." Sampton raised his eyebrows. "Not your

usual choice of prick-warmer, but I suppose the lad has a
fresh-faced appeal if your tastes run that way."

Julian was on the verge of snapping back an angry

reply when caution bound his tongue. Sampton was not
one of those to sneer at a man or woman for their choice
of partner, and until now, he'd seemed to like Alex well
enough. Alex's offense might rank high in Sampton's
eyes -- Julian's too -- but not so high as to obliterate his
short but excellent work record.

"He's a friend," he repeated calmly. "I like him, and

yesterday he fell victim to an unfortunate set of
circumstances that prevented him from doing his job. I

Spoken from the Heart - 185

agree no excuse is good enough. He wasn't at his post
when he was needed. I'm simply saying he deserves a
second chance."

"Why?" Sampton shrugged, his wide shoulders

rolling under a shabby navy brocade jerkin that had seen
better days. "I could walk outside, throw a stone, and hit
a lad with his skills."

"He's good at what he does. The sets for Silence Falls

are being built quickly and well. Duncan swears by the
lad."

"I know."
"He's worked long hours without complaining--"
"I should hope so. Blood and shit, it comes to

something when a worker expects short hours and
nothing to fill them but idling." Sampton smirked at him.
"Go on, Master Melville. You're doing a splendid job."

"Oh you--" Julian flung himself into a chair and

glared at Sampton. "I'll pay his wages for a month if you
keep him on."

"Interesting." Sampton pursed his lips. "Tell me, did

you speak to Duncan before you came in here breathing
fire and fury?"

"Why, no. I heard from Patrick you would not see the

boy, and I decided to try my hand at convincing you to
be lenient."

Patrick had been ghost-pale, his voice hoarse -- from

reading to his sister, he'd said -- but there had been
enough concern in his voice to tell Julian that Alex had
made another friend. The boy picked them up as easily
as a longhaired cat collected burrs.

"I see." There was a suspicion of laughter in

Sampton's voice, and it made Julian frown at him,
suspicion flaring. "It so happens the reason I wouldn't
see young Alex was that there was no need. I never had

Spoken from the Heart - 186

any intention of losing him when we're so close to
opening night. Mind, when I think he's stewed long
enough, I'll bring him in and let him know what I think
of apprentices who wander off when there's work to be
done and get themselves lost, but that's between me and
him."

"You -- and you let me--" Indignation made Julian

splutter before he shook his head, a rueful smile on his
face. "You're a devious man, Master Sampton."

"Aye, I am." Sampton smiled, all complacence. "A

month's wages, hmm?"

"What? No, not now I know…" Julian's voice trailed

off as Sampton raised his eyebrows. "A month," he said,
with resignation.

"And he doesn't get paid at all for yesterday."
"Oh, very well."
Julian stood and swept his cloak around him. He'd

been too concerned with what Patrick had told him to
take it off. It did allow for a nicely dramatic exit.

"The castle's in some disarray this morning,"

Sampton said, when Julian's hand was on the door.

Julian paused and glanced back. "Really? Why?"
"A page went missing. Well, they found his body in

the river at dawn, and then they missed him, I suppose.
Those pages never sleep in their own beds, randy little
brats."

"That's very sad," Julian said, without giving it much

thought. The river in Sorrent was wide where it met the
ocean, and tidal forces made parts of it treacherous.
Fishermen died in its waters every year, and children
were warned not to swim in certain places. Not that they
listened. Where was the fun in safety? As a lad, Julian
himself had jumped off the small cliff -- it had seemed
higher then -- that overlooked a swirling froth of water

Spoken from the Heart - 187

called Dead Man's Folly. It had been a rite of passage,
and he leaped out with exhilaration filling him, certain
he'd be safe because he was young enough to think
himself immortal. The vicious drag of the water, cold
and weed-filled, had taught him a lesson in caution, and
his father's belt, applied vigorously to his ass later that
day when he found out what Julian had done, had
underlined it.

"They think he was meeting a sweetheart," Sampton

continued. "He had a white rose in his jerkin, or what
was left of one, anyway. Pity."

A dead page. A white rose. Julian's mind went

curiously still for a moment, and he was sure his face
echoed its blankness. He was an actor, though, trained to
react only as the script demanded. He'd played a death
scene with his face dripping scarlet from an over-ripe
tomato, hurled at him with distressing accuracy from the
audience and, the next day in a different village, had
been forced to keep his face straight when a man, tall,
drunk, smiling vaguely, had pissed into the elaborately
plumed hat of the mayor, placed carefully on the chair
beside him.

"It is. Poor boy."
"Well, as to that, he was a page." Sampton shrugged.

"Little demons, most of them, ripe for mischief, and if
they're pretty enough, corrupted by every lord or lady at
court. Still, the duke's seemingly most put out about it."

"He feels a great responsibility to those in his care,"

Julian said smoothly. "I saw you speak with him after
the play; tell me, did he remark upon my performance at
all?"

In truth, he cared not if the duke had fallen asleep

during the play, but judging by the amused smile on
Sampton's face, he'd distracted the man from thoughts of

Spoken from the Heart - 188

drowned pages by behaving exactly as Sampton would
expect.

Blank horror wasn't usual; self-centeredness was.
"He was most kind about all the players, and I believe

he was mightily taken with Mistress Claire."

"Did you see her shameless flirting?" Julian asked

hotly. "I swear, had we not been guests at the castle, I
would have taken her to task as soon as the curtain fell."

Sampton chuckled, showing a surprising indulgence.

"Minx. She let the occasion go to her head, that's all. I'll
speak to her if it happens again."

"Indeed. Then by your leave…" Julian bowed and

swept out of the room, his head spinning oddly, his skin
clammy with sweat.

One thought shone clear. Alex must not find out

about this. He would blame himself as sure as sunrise. If
the word was already out, the chance of keeping it from
him was remote, but Julian would do his best. It was a
small story, with no breath of scandal, and would die as
quickly as the unfortunate page, but the theater folk
would discuss it because they'd been at the castle the day
he died. They'd wonder if they'd seen him, shiver over
his fate, weave theories about his lover, and
sentimentalize the rose he'd been carrying.

Blood and shit, he had no way of keeping Alex

ignorant, none at all.

He hurried to the workroom and found Alex,

disconsolate and subdued, his face burning hotly as
Duncan berated him.

As Julian walked over to them, Duncan ended his

scolding with a clap to Alex's shoulder. "There, lad, take
the blue out of your eyes. I spoke only for your own
good, but what's done is done and I'm not a man to harp

Spoken from the Heart - 189

on a mistake. Get back to work. We're behind with all
that jauntering off to rub shoulders with the nobles."

"Yes, sir." Alex brightened up immediately, giving

Julian a sunny smile. "Julian! Did you hear? I'm not to
lose my job!"

"I heard from the man himself after I'd spent a full

ten minutes trying to persuade him to be merciful."

"You did? And he'd already…oh, that's too bad of

him." There was a suspicion of a twitch to Alex's lips
that made Julian think the lad was holding back a grin.

"Brat," he said fondly, and cuffed Alex's head. "You

heard Duncan. Get back to work."

If Alex kept his head down, as no doubt he would,

driven by gratitude and guilt, and if Julian swept him
home as soon as possible…maybe, just maybe…

"Duncan! Did you hear the news?" Selwyn strode

into the workroom, flashing a smile at Julian and Alex.
"They found--"

"Selwyn, aren't you wanted on stage?" Julian

interrupted.

"What? Why would I be? You are, though. Best

hurry." Selwyn opened his mouth again. "They've
found--"

"No, I feel sure they needed you." Desperation

clogged his usually ready tongue. Julian couldn't slap his
hand over Selwyn's mouth to silence his babbling, but he
ardently wished he could.

Selwyn gave Julian an exasperated look, his pink

mouth pouting. "Julian, have done! I need to tell Duncan
this message about the paint he ordered."

"The cinnabar came in?" Duncan flung up his hands.

"Finally! Alex, lad, you haven't worked with it before.
I'll show you how to make the most intense of reds from
the powder once we grind it."

Spoken from the Heart - 190

Alex looked all attentive interest, and Julian exhaled,

relief filling him. Perhaps it was safe for him to leave
now.

When he came across Alex puking up his guts a few

hours later, his face whey-pale, his eyes glazed with
shock and horror, he knew it had not.

An arm around Alex's shoulders, Julian drew him

away from the bucket he'd been using and to a chair.
They were in a dressing room so small it was rarely used,
the plaster marked with damp and the chair Alex was
using rickety to the point of being dangerous.

"I was told you'd been seen heading this way." Julian

rubbed soothing circles over Alex's back. "I was going
to take you out for a pie, but Lindy would ban us both if
you did this after eating one."

"How can you joke?" Alex wiped the back of his

mouth on his sleeve and shuddered, turning to spit into
the bucket. "You know, don't you?"

"Sampton told me this morning," Julian admitted.

"He doesn't know more than the bare bones of it, though
-- no one does. You need to keep it that way, Alex, do
you hear me? Tell me you've told no one of your
connection to this."

Julian held his breath, but Alex shook his head. "No.

I was too ashamed. I said all that was proper, though it
nearly killed me to do so, and then I came here. I had to
be alone."

"You must not blame yourself. The person who

ordered this -- do not use names -- is solely responsible.
Not you. Never you."

"If you thought that was so, you wouldn't have been

at such pains to shield me," Alex said, with a logic that
failed to gain Julian's approval.

Spoken from the Heart - 191

"I knew it would upset you. Darkness take it, it upset

me! It doesn't change the fact you're not the one who
arranged for him to be drowned."

"The rose he carried -- how could she do that?" Alex

whispered. "It was a message to me -- or a warning. Oh,
Lady save me, I don't want to die, Julian!"

"The person clearly feels a certain fondness for you,"

Julian said, picking his words carefully." They revenged
what they saw as a slight, no, worse, a malicious attempt
to get you into serious trouble. I don't think you're in any
danger." He hesitated and lowered his voice still more,
whispering urgently, persuasively into Alex's ear. "If it
will ease your mind, the word is that the person has been
ordered to her country estates by the duke. No one is
making any connection between her banishment and the
death, and I doubt the duke knows what she did, so there
is none. It's a juicy piece of court gossip. Most think it's
because of her affair with the Master of Stables. They
were found last week in a most compromising position.
He's been stripped of his post and whipped, and she,
well, this is her punishment, most think. The duke let
her stay for the party because he wanted nothing to mar
Lady Helena's day. She will be gone soon, and when she
returns, you'll have slipped from her mind, I promise."

"I can't lie and say I'm not relieved, but to know my

thoughtless words caused his death-- He was unkind to
do what he did, but he didn't deserve to die for a prank.
If I'd met up with him again, I would've told him what I
thought of him and happily punched his smirking face,
but death? For that?" Alex shuddered again. "How could
she? And what of the duke's rule of one law for rich and
poor?"

"It sounds good, but I've yet to see a noble in the

justice stocks," Julian said cynically. "There is no

Spoken from the Heart - 192

possibility of his sister being punished, not when there's
no evidence pointing her way. A pageboy would never
be to her taste as a lover and no one would connect her
with him unless she told them and she's far too fond of
her skin to confess."

Alex drew a deep breath. "Everything you say is true,

but I can't help thinking the duke does know and is
angry."

"Well, that's the lady's problem, not yours," Julian

pointed out. The bucket was making the room stink. He
smoothed Alex's rumpled hair. "Come. Let's clean up
and go out for some fresh air. Maybe it'll bring the color
back to your cheeks and restore your appetite."

Alex bit his lip, then nodded. The shock had left his

eyes, but they were still brimful of regret and it was to
be many days before it faded.

Spoken from the Heart - 193

Chapter Fifteen

Alex clipped a third pink rose from the bush and

added it to the basket on the ground beside him. Nothing
but the most perfect flowers would be suitable for his
purpose, and he'd discarded half a dozen for a withered
petal or crooked stem.

If these were -- had been -- Lara's favorite flowers,

Alex would strip Julian's garden bare of them for her
grave, but only if they were flawless, as sweet and
perfect as she had been.

Her name was too similar to his sister's for him not to

feel a kinship with Patrick in this terrible time. Larissa
was, as far as he knew, enjoying her customary good
health, but still…

He filled the basket, then, on an impulse, added some

sweet peas, white and pink, his mother's favorites. Their
fragrance mingled with the roses, delicately perfuming
the air.

Lara's death had left Patrick a silent figure, his face

stiff with sorrow, his nightly performances verging on
painful to watch from what Julian said. Training and
familiarity could carry him only so far. Julian had
assured Alex that within the week, Patrick would be as
normal, on the stage at least, but Alex didn't see how
that could be possible.

The funeral, given the hot weather, was a matter of

some urgency, but whatever had struck Lara down had
not been satisfied with her. The city sweated in the heat
and the numbers sick with fever grew daily, as did the
bodies waiting to be buried. Lara's body, so small,
wasted away to skin and bones, it was said, had lain
with others in an icehouse, waiting for a hole to be dug.
Even Patrick's money could not buy her a faster burial.

Spoken from the Heart - 194

Alex was uneasy about the spread of the illness. It

had gone from being a matter of concern to those
afflicted and their families to being a major concern for
most. The cause was unknown; it was certainly not the
bird Patrick had thought was to blame. Some looked to
the river, bordered now with stinking yellow mud as its
waters receded, others to the night air, always held to be
unhealthy.

Julian and Alex kept to themselves and were cautious

of what they ate, relying heavily on the produce from the
garden, though Julian complained that if he ate one more
pea, he would turn green.

Julian came out of the house and walked down the

path, level now, no weeds showing between the stones,
and put his arms around Alex. It was so easy to rest his
head on Julian's shoulder and breathe in his scent. With
every day, Alex knew himself more deeply in love, but
he had yet to hear the words from Julian, though he
sometimes saw a soft light in Julian's eyes that mirrored
his own expression.

He'd take what Julian offered, limited though it was,

over fervent adoration from another, though.

"You've finished here, sweetheart?"
Alex nodded. He wanted to kiss Julian's neck, but it

felt wrong to have his senses stirred by Julian's
closeness on this sad day. He contented himself with a
decorous peck on Julian's smooth, freshly shaved cheek,
and stepped back. A few leaves clung to his jerkin --
white, as was the custom, and he plucked them off,
hoping they hadn't marred the cloth.

"We should leave now," Julian said. "I'm to speak

some words and the streets are busy at this time of day.
I've hired a carriage for us. We don't want to be late or
arrive hot and disheveled."

Spoken from the Heart - 195

Alex picked up the basket. "I wanted to take the

thorns off the stems."

"There's no time and besides…" Julian shrugged, the

beautifully expressive shrug of an actor. "They're part of
the rose, Pippin. You can't take them away without
weakening the stem."

Alex held up his hand, showing a deep scratch across

his index finger. "I can still wish they naturally came
without thorns."

Julian smiled at him and took the injured hand in his,

dropping a kiss against the throbbing finger. "If they
leave you bleeding, I'd wish them gone from the Realm,
but I know you love their scent, so maybe you just need
to handle them with care. Wear gloves; I'm sure my
father's gardener always did."

"I do if I'm handling brambles, but I like to feel the

earth against my hands. It's honest dirt and it washes
off." Alex studied his hands. "And I think I need to
prove that before we go. I'll be quick, I promise."

By the time they reached the burial ground, a stretch

of green land outside the city walls, trees growing tall
here and there, majestic oaks and beeches for the most
part, Alex was wishing himself anywhere but there.
Julian had fallen silent with an abstracted frown on his
face, and the carriage was filled with the sweet, rich
scent of the flowers, making Alex feel at times as if he
couldn't breathe.

The driver pulled the carriage into a space next to

another, this one a large, ponderous vehicle designed to
carry the coffin and the grievers, a moon painted in
silver on each door. Alex's village had taken its dead to
be buried on foot, the coffin weighing down the
shoulders of those carrying it. Every farm had its own
burial plot, as did the village, and back home nowhere

Spoken from the Heart - 196

had been far from anywhere else. He eyed the carriage
with a shiver running over him, even though it was
empty now. Young Lara waited at the grave site.

They walked through the grass to where Patrick and

his mother stood, joining a gentle stream of people all
with one destination.

Alex saw faces he knew from the Pinnacle and got a

nod of the head from Joe, the server at Mistress Lindy's,
his long face set in melancholy lines. Lara's family had
chosen a simple form of remembrance, the traditional
words read out by Patrick in a voice that never wavered,
though tears were wet on his face before he'd reached
the line about light eternal.

In an agony of sympathy, Alex let his tears flow

freely, too, offering up his sorrow to the Lady, turning
his face up to the sky.

When Patrick had finished, the small coffin was

lowered into the ground and he went to hold his mother,
who was standing stone-faced and rigid, her eyes blank
as if the sight she was watching was too terrible to
accept, though she could not look away.

Alex wished she would cry. Tears had helped him

when he'd lost his grandmother, washing the bitterness
from his grief, drop by drop.

"Lara has left us." Julian stepped forward, drawing

the gaze of those around him from the grave as he was
supposed to. The sight of the coffin being swallowed by
the earth was never an easy one to bear. "Left us as lost
as when the Lady hides her Light from us, eclipsed by
the brazen fire of the sun. Seek as we may her merry
laughter, her shining eyes, we will not find them."
Mistress Rathes made a choking sound, her hand flying
to her mouth, tears beginning, mercifully, to fall. "But
they live on in our memories, always, and there she is

Spoken from the Heart - 197

always to be found until we join her in the Light and
realize that it was we who were lost and floundering in
the dark, not her."

He wasn't acting, Alex realized, but every inflection,

every small, subdued gesture, was perfectly judged. The
deep, beautiful voice was plangent and strong as he
shared some memories of Lara, once even provoking a
ripple of fond amusement, his words binding the
mourners until they were one, united in their loss.

Julian's voice lowered as he spoke the final words,

blessing Lara's journey to the Light, and a voice rose
from the back of the crowd, high and pure, singing the
lament. Alex bowed his head, as did those around him.
It was unlucky to look upon the Ladysinger, even if she
remained veiled, standing alone until the last mourner
had departed.

The earth was heaped high on the grave, Alex's

flowers strewn on the soft loam, and Alex and Julian
turned their steps toward their waiting carriage. Alex
was about to climb in when they were hailed by Patrick,
composed now, as if the worst was over, though he was
markedly pale.

"My mother wished to convey her gratitude," he said,

addressing Julian. "You spoke so fondly of Lara."

"I meant every word most sincerely." Julian hugged

Patrick, who looked surprised, then pleased. "Every
word."

"And the flowers." Patrick turned to Alex. "Her

favorites and such perfect buds, every one. My mother
took one to press between the leaves of the last book
Lara read before she took ill."

Unsure of what to say, Alex settled for a brief smile

and held out his hand. It was taken and he was pulled
into a hug, Patrick evidently taking his cue from Julian.

Spoken from the Heart - 198

"May the Lady bless you both," Patrick said, and

kissed them as custom commanded, his lips warm
against Alex's cheek.

"I will see you tonight?" Julian asked, and to Alex it

seemed more was being asked than the words indicated.

Patrick hesitated, his hand going to his head as if it

pained him, then he nodded. "To be sure. Let the curtain
rise on the last week of Ardent Hearts, eh? Next week,
we tackle stronger meat."

"He does not even get this day in which to mourn?"

Alex asked, as soon as the carriage was on its way. His
voice cracked with indignation, outrage filling him. "He
has an understudy!"

"He's better off on stage."
"What of his mother? Shall we expect to see her in a

seat, applauding the antics as you all caper and prance
about the stage?"

Julian gave him an astonished look. "Alex, I'm not

being callous -- and we don't prance and caper, by the
way. Left alone, Patrick will brood. Left to comfort his
mother, who's surrounded by a host of relatives and
friends incidentally, he'll be unable to forget, even for a
moment, that his sister is gone. On stage, he can be
someone else, if only for a short time, and that, trust me,
will be the saving of him. He needs to eat his grief in
small bites. You would have him feast on it like a
glutton."

Taken aback by Julian's terse words, jolted out of the

assumption he'd made so arrogantly, Alex could only
lower his head and mutter an apology.

Julian's hand closed on his. "Your thoughts were of

him, I know, and do you credit, but…he's theater folk,
Pippin. We don't deal with events in quite the same way
that others do. You'll see that in time."

Spoken from the Heart - 199

"Nothing must keep the curtain from rising?"
"Nothing. Why, Langton Hadley died on stage --

truly died, I mean -- and the play went on around him,
and I know, I know," Julian said, poking Alex in the
chest, "he wouldn't have had it any other way. Why?
Because--"

"Because he was theater folk," Alex said wearily.

"Very well. Should I see you clutch at your chest and
collapse, I'll stay in the wings, not rush to try and save
you."

"Thank you," Julian said, and sounded completely

sincere.

Actors. Not for the first time, Alex blessed the Lady

that when it came to the theater, he only worked there.
Cut Julian and he'd bleed greasepaint.

Spoken from the Heart - 200

Chapter Sixteen

On the day Silence Falls was to open, Julian woke

with his prick hard, his stomach tight, and a thousand
lines jumbled in his head.

The first condition was too familiar to be worthy of

note, and the other two were entirely due to what was to
come in the evening. Julian knew he would not forget
his lines, or miss a cue. Knew the audience would not
rise as one to jeer him before walking out.

Knew it -- and still feared this time, this time, his

skill, his art would fail him…

He sighed and rolled over, reaching for Alex. Judging

by the light sifting in though the curtains, it was early
enough that they had time to start the day off well, even
if Alex would soon have to scurry off to the theater to
help with any last minute alterations to the sets. The
dress rehearsal had revealed a few issues with the set
under the proper lighting, and Duncan was ever the
perfectionist.

Julian would follow his customary ritual on opening

night and rise late, bathe at his leisure, eat lightly but
well, avoid anything but water or tea to drink, and,
costume permitting, wear the silver necklace his mother
had given him as a child. From it swung a crescent
moon, his sign since that was how the Lady had looked
when he was born. He wondered what Alex's sign was.
Some took the matter seriously, decreeing those born
under a new moon would never be happy with a person
whose sign was a waxing one.

Their logic escaped Julian, but he wasn't above using

the smattering of lore he'd acquired to convince
someone the two of them would be ideal partners in bed.

Spoken from the Heart - 201

Alex stirred and yawned, a frown creasing his

forehead. Julian kissed him lightly on his warm, sleepy
mouth, no longer surprised by the tenderness they had
together. Alex had become part of his life with the
inevitability of winter becoming spring, the progression
from stranger to friend to lover as gradual as the thawing
of the earth.

"Wake up," he said, keeping his voice low. "Or let

me wake you." Julian reached down to cup Alex's balls
and caress his prick, expecting to find Alex as ready to
fuck as he, but the flesh he held was lax and Alex made
a small grumbling sound of protest. "No?"

"I don't feel well." Alex's voice was a scratchy rasp.

"My throat hurts."

It had been fine the night before, or at least Alex had

made no protest when he'd taken Julian's prick deep
inside his mouth, urging Julian on to his finish with deft,
delicious touches from his tongue and hands, his fingers
stroking the heavy dangle of Julian's balls.

For a moment, fear gripped Julian in an icy hand. The

epidemic of what was simply called "the fever" was
dying down now -- an all too apt description given the
deaths it had caused -- and he'd rejoiced that, Lara aside,
none he knew had been taken. For Alex to fall prey to it
now…

He laid his hand on Alex's forehead, relieved to find

it warm and clammy, not rough with heat and bone-dry.
A sore throat, too…that was not one of the symptoms of
the fever, but rather a vicious headache. Alex probably
had a summer cold, no more than that.

Not that Julian wished to catch a cold. To play Lord

Lenton with a chafed red nose and a husky croak in
place of a voice would be unbearable. Worse still, his
understudy might step into his shoes.

Spoken from the Heart - 202

He had the hardiness of most actors, well used to

long hours and, when on tour at least, playing in
draughty, freezing theaters or under the unforgiving
blaze of the sun. Even so, anyone could catch a cold.

He vowed to make himself the hot toddy his father

had sworn by if he felt even the suspicion of a sneeze.
Sweet with honey, tart with lemon, the spirit it was laced
with adding a kick, it guaranteed a good night's sleep.
Making one for Alex later on might be a good idea, too.

"My poor Pippin. Stay in bed and I'll bring you up

some tea."

Alex gave him a muzzily grateful smile and promptly

fell back to sleep, rousing only when Julian shook his
shoulder.

"If you're not to be late, you need to get up, my sweet.

Or do you feel too sick to work?"

"What? No!" Alex struggled up, patches of scarlet

burning in his cheeks. "I can't miss opening night.
Duncan needs me, and after what happened before, how
can I let him down?"

Alex's determination to go to the Pinnacle was too in

tune with Julian's own feelings for him to argue.
Opening night -- who would wish to be anywhere else
but the theater? He coaxed Alex into drinking the honey-
sweetened tea and made him swallow a noxious dose of
medicine said to shorten the span of a cold. It was a
peculiar green, with dark specks floating in it, and
smelled of cabbage, but Alex's nose was so stuffed up he
swore he could detect nothing but the faintest odor.
After he’d dutifully gulped it down, he shuddered and
his face took on a greenish cast, not unlike the dose
itself, but he assured Julian he felt better now he was up
and dressed.

Spoken from the Heart - 203

Julian decided to postpone some of his ritual until

later. He'd walk to the theater with Alex to make sure
the lad arrived safely, then breakfast at Mistress Lindy's.

The walk was a silent one. Alex's expression was

dogged, but he stumbled as he walked from time to time,
as if his strength had suddenly left him. He coughed
often and blew his nose at intervals on a large square of
red cotton. Julian had a dozen handkerchiefs in the finest
cambric, laundered to a dazzling white, but they weren't
intended to be put to that purpose. Flicked daintily in the
air to make a point or used to dab delicately at a non-
existent tear, yes. He'd found the red handkerchief in a
drawer and suspected it had once been a duster.

"What ails you?" Duncan asked, after one look at

Alex.

"I have a cold," Alex said thickly. "I'm able to work,

don't worry."

Duncan frowned at him. "A cold? Not the fever?"
"Really, it's just a cold. My head aches a little, but

that's because I can't breathe." To prove it, Alex sniffed,
the resulting sound, a wet, snorting gurgle, disgusting
enough to have Julian backing away hastily.

"He'll be able to do what's needed, Duncan. He's a

healthy lad and surely there's little left for him to work
on?"

"Not much," Duncan allowed, "but if you'd care to

wager on it remaining that way until curtain rise, I'll take
your money gladly."

Knowing how many problems occurred at the last

moment on first night, Julian didn't take the wager. With
a wave to Alex in place of a kiss, he left to have his
breakfast, a smile on his face for every passerby as he
tried to convince his nervous apprehension to fade.

Spoken from the Heart - 204

A breakfast of eggs poached in sherry, the juiciest of

chicken and apple sausages, and mushrooms freshly
picked that morning that had been simmered in butter
and herbs left him feeling content and replete. He left a
large tip and sauntered out into the sunshine, planning a
way to fill the long, empty hours until he could
reasonably present himself at the theater. If he arrived
too soon, he'd work himself into a fret, exhausting
himself and leaving others with frayed tempers. He
really didn't wish to see Patrick strutting around in his
royal garb as King Henry. They might be better friends
now, but Julian still felt the role of the king was one he
could have played with far more depth and passion than
Patrick, for all the other man's experience.

On a whim, he made his way to the bookshop Alex

loved so much, intending to buy Alex a first night gift.
Sampton had banned their exchange at the theater,
declaring their mounting extravagance as the actors
competed to be generous to be a waste of money, but
this would be an entirely private affair.

The bookshop was quiet, and Julian had no difficulty

in getting the young man in attendance to show him
which shelf Alex was most drawn to when he browsed.
Unsure of which book to buy, Julian settled on one with
a binding the same green as his Pippin's eyes, embossed
richly with gold. The title promised much -- Lost in the
Mallin Mountains, a Tale of Adventure and Daring,
Treachery and Love -- and the pages were pleasantly
smooth to the touch, the ink a crisp black.

Once paid for, he tucked his wrapped purchase under

his arm, refusing the offer to have it delivered, and
resumed his stroll. At first, he found himself distracted
by the busy streets, the ever-shifting sounds and colors,
but gradually his attention turned inward and he found

Spoken from the Heart - 205

himself running through his lines, murmuring them
under his breath, ignoring the bewildered or scornful
glances he got.

There was that moment in the third act where he had

to show his silent horror at what his king had become…
Those the back of the theater had to feel it, even though
to them his face was a distant blur, but he must not
overplay it or those in the boxes and the front rows
would deem it poor acting. He'd thought he'd struck a
nice balance in rehearsal, but then, had anyone been
sitting at the back to confirm it?

Panic, unreasoning and comprehensive, swept

through him, and his gut clenched as his stomach
threatened to return his meal to the outside world.

With a muttered curse, he turned his steps toward the

Pinnacle. Early or not, he must get this matter resolved
or his performance, nay, the play, would be ruined. That
moment was pivotal, vital--

He reached the theater, his legs aching from the brisk

pace he'd set, and went in search of someone with
sufficient intelligence to be able to provide useful
criticism. Finding no one who fit the bill and was at
leisure to assist him, he settled for Sampton's grandson,
Tom.

"So I'm to sit at the back and listen?"
"No. I shall not be talking."
"Then how will I know if you're talking loud

enough?" An unspoken "idiot" hung in the air.

Julian set a smile on his face. Odious little imp. "I

will deliver my lines in such a way that the faintest
whisper is audible. I always do. What I require from you
is your opinion as to my success in conveying a deep,
bitter horror at what my king has become. I am to get it
over without words, so you see?"

Spoken from the Heart - 206

"Like a mime," the boy said, and had the audacity to

pretend to be drinking from a cup that wasn't there, his
little finger crooked absurdly. "See? Easy."

"Not in the least like a mime," Julian said, his jaw

aching from the grimace his smile had become. "Will
you kindly take your place and I will speak the lines
leading up--"

"I thought you weren't saying anything."
"I say nothing after the king has told me of his plans

to invade."

"Oh." Tom blinked at him. "So you're going to stand

on one side of the stage, say the king's lines, then run
across to where you're supposed to be and say nothing?"

"You," Julian said levelly, after a silence as eloquent

as any in the play, "are a pestilent brat and not as clever
as you think yourself to be."

Young Master Tom stuck out a tongue bright green

from sucking on hard candy, and giggled. His temper
snapped, and Julian reached out, grabbed Tom by the
shoulder and administered a few well-earned cuffs to the
brat's head. "There! Take that and thank your name that
it's all you're getting. Anyone else and I'd beat you
soundly, you dark-taken demon. Be off with you."

He assisted Tom's departure with a kick to the boy's

backside and dusted off his hands with grim satisfaction
filling him. Sampton would be furious when he heard
Tom's tale, embroidered as it would undoubtedly be, but
Lady, it would be worth it!

He went in search of Duncan. Maybe Alex could be

spared for a few minutes…

Julian entered the workroom just in time to see Alex

sway, his eyes glassy, his face sweating, and collapse in
a faint.

Spoken from the Heart - 207

"Pippin!" He rushed forward, too late to catch Alex,

whose head struck the table as he collapsed with a thud
that set Julian's teeth on edge. "Oh, Lady, he's bleeding."

Duncan hurried over, his face concerned. "Is he

unconscious?"

"Yes, but I think he fainted before he hit his head. I

don't know. It all happened so fast--"

Distracted, worried beyond belief, Julian took out one

of the handkerchiefs he'd deemed too precious to be
used to wipe away snot and pressed it to the deep gouge
in Alex's forehead, trying to staunch the blood that
flowed so quickly from the wound.

"Keep his head up," Duncan ordered, and

disappeared in search of the wooden box containing
some rudimentary supplies for those foolish enough to
injure themselves in the workroom.

When he returned, the box in one hand, a bowl of

water in the other, Julian had still not succeeded in
rousing Alex from his stupor. The blood had begun to
clot around the wound, but a thin trickle ran down
Alex's ashen face when Duncan bathed the wound.

"Stop that," Julian said, fear making him irritable.

"He cannot stand to lose more."

"It needs to be cleaned."
"His face isn't dirty," Julian pointed out. "What he

needs is for the bleeding to stop and for his senses to
return. You knew he was sick; why did you work him so
hard?"

"I didn't! I gave him nothing but the simplest of tasks

and told him to sit down as many times as I blessed his
sneezing." Duncan bristled. "If anything, he's worked
himself too hard because of you, Master Melville. He
kept saying not even death was an excuse for a theater

Spoken from the Heart - 208

man not to do his job, and he got that from you, I know
it."

Julian cradled Alex to him, heedless of the

bloodstains soiling his shirt. "Oh, what does it matter?
Pippin, open your eyes, love. Speak to me."

Duncan peeled back Alex's eyelid. What he learned

from what he saw, Julian didn't know, but the dubious
grunt wasn't promising.

"What's this, what's this?" Sampton entered on a roar,

his eyes bright with anger. "You're to keep your hands
off my grandson, Melville, if you want a job here. I'll
not have--"

"He's a spoiled brat and he deserved a cuff," Julian

snapped, without taking his gaze away from Alex's face.
Was that a flutter of the eyelashes? "To be so insolent on
first night when I required assistance -- it's disgraceful
behavior in one who should know better."

"Can you talk about this without shouting?" Duncan

asked with terse courtesy. "Master Sampton, young Alex
isn't well. He fainted and struck his head."

"Not well! What is it? The fever?" Sampton's eyes

widened. "The fever and you let him work here,
spreading his malaise to all under this roof?"

"He has a cold," Julian said impatiently. "No more

than that. He insisted on coming to work because he
didn't want to let you down."

"Fool of a boy. Get him home, Melville, and then

return here."

"I'll gladly do the first, but as to the second, I'll need

to find a physician and someone to sit with him first."

"Do what needs to be done, but I want you here."

Sampton stabbed a thick finger at Julian. "We'll speak of
the apology you'll give to Tom later."

Spoken from the Heart - 209

"I'll apologize when the Lady shines blue." Julian met

Sampton's enraged scowl calmly. Julian was an even-
tempered man for the most part, the necessary dramatics
due to his profession apart, but sometimes, as his father
had been only too fond of telling him, he was as
immovable as a mountain. He could feel this was one of
those times, when the sense that right was on his side
was overwhelming and nothing, nothing, would
persuade him to back down.

Sampton's gaze fell and he stalked away, his manner

so forbidding, even in defeat, that Duncan swore under
his breath.

"You've made an enemy there."
"I care not," Julian said, which wasn't quite the truth.

"Send for a carriage, Duncan, and let me know when
one is waiting."

He carried Alex out to it a short time later, forced to

admit within a few steps that he couldn't do it unaided.
Alex was heavier than he'd expected. Julian didn't allow
himself to think "dead weight". With Duncan supporting
Alex's feet, they managed well enough without jostling
Alex unduly.

When the ride ended, for a few coppers, the driver

helped to carry Alex up to Julian's bed, willing enough
since he'd been told only that Alex had struck his head.
Julian knew that to mention Alex's illness would have
the man shying away with fear.

He sent a message to his family's physician by the

small boy next door, happy to run an errand for Alex's
sake. Alex had carved him a set of animals for his
birthday, all wonderfully life-like, painted in bold colors,
and won the child's affection with his willingness to get
onto the floor and play with them.

Spoken from the Heart - 210

While he waited for Master Philps, he stripped Alex

down and dressed the lad in a thin shift, musty from
being stored in a chest, but clean enough. Alex's skin
was hotter now, and the removal of his clothing made
him shiver, even unconscious as he was, his teeth
chattering. The sound was eerie, coupled as it was with
his closed eyes and labored breathing. The head wound
bled no more, the skin around it dark with crusted blood.

Julian went to the window and stared out, willing the

physician to appear. He felt helpless, his bright day
ruined. He loved first night, for all that he usually spent
it in a fret of nerves, sometimes throwing up before he
went on stage. The play was fresh and the actors
enthusiastic. A long run could leave even the most
professional actor jaded, repeating words and actions by
rote, the role so familiar it was easier to play it exactly
the same than to seek to improve on it.

He flexed his wrist as if he held a sword and sketched

out the opening moves from his swordfight with the
king. The scuff of his boots on the floor seemed over-
loud, and he stopped, guilt filling him at his momentary
distraction, and turned to the bed.

There was no change. With a sigh, he went to fill a

basin with water, anticipating the physician's needs as
best he could and adding a soft cloth and a bottle of
astringent liquid said to aid healing. He had a small
bottle of smelling salts, too, one whiff of which could
rouse the dead, in his opinion, but he didn't uncork it,
just set it beside the bed on the small table there.

By the time Master Philps arrived, Julian's nails were

chewed ragged and he was pacing the room, hemmed in,
confined, pausing now and then to talk to Alex or bathe
his face as best he could.

Spoken from the Heart - 211

"It's a most serious injury," Philps said, disapproval

souring his voice. He'd wanted to chat with Julian, sip a
glass of wine perhaps and reminisce about the time
Julian had fallen ill with the red spots. Julian had cut
short his pleasantries and hustled him upstairs with scant
ceremony. The list of people he'd annoyed this day was
growing longer with every moment. "He should have
roused by now."

At least Philps had dismissed the threat of the fever

with a scornful grunt. "A cold," he said loftily. "I have
no doubt about it. The swoon was caused by tiredness
and lack of food. You say he'd not eaten?"

"His throat was too sore, he said. He did drink some

tea."

Philps, whose stomach entered a room before him,

looked horrified. "The day should always begin with a
large meal to sustain the body for the rigors of the day."

"Indeed." Julian strove for a flattering tone in an

attempt to mend the bridges he'd burned. "You're so
right."

He was given a shrewd glance. "Humph. Yes, well,

that explains that." He bent over the bed, exploring the
wound with deft, sure fingers and not a hint of
squeamishness. "I can feel a depression. It may be the
bone is pushing against his brain and suspending his
natural functions."

That sounded ghastly enough that Julian could only

gape at him. "What -- what can you do if that is the
case?"

"I could operate. Cut into his head and try to relieve--

"

"No!" Julian startled himself with the vehemence he

showed. "I've heard of such operations. My friend -- a
sailor on his ship fell from the rigging. The man lived,

Spoken from the Heart - 212

but he was mindless, a drooling hulk of a man. I'll not
have that. Not for Alex. Not him."

"My dear Julian," Philps said testily. "I'm no

sawbones, and I don't propose to cut into him this
moment, but in due time if he doesn't waken. Please
realize what your sailor underwent was some primitive
form of what I would do, performed by a butcher who
didn't deserve to call himself a physician."

"You can't know that. Some of the physicians aboard

ships are skilled enough. They have plenty of patients
upon which to hone their skills, after all." Julian shook
his head, dismissing the subject before Philps could
continue their argument. "No. He's under my care and
that -- no. It's too early to even think of it. We need to
give him time to wake on his own." He picked up the
smelling salts and thrust them at the physician. "Try
these."

Philps eyed them dubiously. "If he were a lady in a

swoon after seeing a mouse run by, maybe," he muttered,
but he uncorked the bottle and waved it under Alex's
nose.

Julian waited anxiously, but although Alex wrinkled

his nose, it seemed more of a reflex action than a sign he
was rousing.

"Well, he needs nursing," Philps said. "His linen will

require changing when he soils himself, and he has to be
fed, too. Water, broth, milk…nothing solid, and all will
need to be spooned into him carefully so that he doesn't
choke."

"I can do that," Julian said slowly, though in truth the

prospect was daunting, "but I'm needed at the theater
soon. Is there a nurse you know of who could sit with
him when I leave? I'll pay generously."

Spoken from the Heart - 213

Philps pursed his lips. "I could send for Mistress

Paterson. She's a most estimable woman and has my full
confidence. With the fever, though, so many calls on all
the nurses and physicians in the city…I'm not sure if
she's available. Hmm. I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you," Julian said, and made it as warm as his

anxiety would allow.

When the physician left, he realized how much he'd

hoped Alex would be restored to him as if by magic. To
have the man Julian had thought infallible as a child be
revealed as limited in his ability to heal was a shock, but
it was lost in the dull worry filling him. He stayed by
Alex's side, attempting to spoon some milk between his
lips but succeeding only in soaking Alex's hair and the
pillow.

Time passed and he found himself pacing again,

wanting to remain with Alex, but conscious of the draw
of the theater. He was wound up tightly, vibrating with
the need to leave, but unable to abandon his post by
Alex's bed. He forced himself to eat, preparing a hasty
meal and hurrying back upstairs to eat it by Alex's side,
but the bath would have to be forgone.

When the sun was dipping low in the sky and tinting

the clouds apricot and pink, there came a knock at the
door.

Julian hurried to answer it and almost wept with

relief when he saw a small, elderly lady wearing the
traditional white cap of a nurse and carrying a large
basket covered over with a snowy cloth.

"Good evening, sir. Master Philps sent me. I'm

Mistress Paterson."

"Oh, thank the Lady!" Julian opened the door wide.

"He's upstairs, but he's not roused and I can't get him to
swallow anything."

Spoken from the Heart - 214

"Never you mind about that, sir." Her voice was thin

with age, but there was a bell-like sweetness to it that
Julian would have appreciated under different
circumstances. "Just show me where your kitchen is and
I'll see to the young man, poor dear."

"I will do so gladly," Julian said, keenly aware of the

awkwardness of what he had to say next, "but then I
must -- I must leave. I'm supposed to be on stage, you
see, and if I'm late--"

She nodded, faded blue eyes shrewd, though he

sensed her faint surprise. "Well, but of course, sir. No
need for gentlemen in a sick room, that's what I always
say."

"I will return as soon as I can, I promise," Julian

assured her. "I'm at the Pinnacle. The people next door
will send for me if needed."

"I can see you're in a hurry, my dear. I'll find what I

need, so there's no reason for you to stay."

Once told he could leave, Julian most perversely

found himself running upstairs for one last peek at Alex.
He went over to the bed and kissed Alex's pale cheek.
"Pippin. My Pippin," he murmured. "I'll return soon,
sweetheart. It would be the finest first night present ever
if you were awake to smile at me when I did."

For the first time, a kiss from him evoked no

response from Alex, no smile, no answering caress.

Sick at heart, Julian left for the theater, feeling as if

the better part of him remained in that quiet bedroom,
beside the still, lifeless figure on the bed.

Spoken from the Heart - 215

Chapter Seventeen

In after years, Julian could remember the opening

night of Silence Falls only as fragmentary impressions,
not a single flowing memory. Parts of it were lost,
blanked out by panic and worry, but some memories
stuck out like rocks in sand, like the tightness in his
chest from running to the theater, pelting down narrow
alleys and taking every shortcut he could.

The clamor of voices greeting him and the furious

glare from his understudy, Selwyn, already -- such
presumption -- in Julian's costume, was another such
memory.

Trying to sit still as his face was made up and noting

absently how his hands were shaking broke him out of
his trance, but he still didn't feel fully present.

When he walked on stage for the first time, he spoke

his lines without thought, the long hours of rehearsal and
his professionalism saving him from the ignominy of
drying up and needing to be prompted, but he knew his
performance had been wooden, stilted. It wasn't until the
swordfight that he truly settled into his role, slashing
savagely with his blade and his words at the king who'd
betrayed him and channeling his emotions so well that
when he screamed out his accusations, his voice broke
and tears ran down his face. The audience loved it,
responding to his turmoil with a spontaneous burst of
applause, but Julian could feel no satisfaction.

The tears had not been controlled, and they most

certainly had not been in character. They, like the
unending constriction in his chest, were because of Alex.

Afterward, he fended off queries from a dozen

concerned people who'd heard of Alex's fall, brushed
aside Patrick's indignant denunciation of his

Spoken from the Heart - 216

grandstanding, and slipped away. Sampton had been
bearing down on him, an ugly gleam in his eyes, and
Julian had no wish to hear a lecture on his lateness. He'd
arrived in time. Just barely, perhaps, but he'd been in the
theater with sufficient time to get into his costume,
submit to having his face painted, and be in the wings
for his first cue. He had not been late.

He emerged from the theater into a night with the

Lady hidden behind gathering clouds and a chill in the
air that the time of year made unseasonable. It matched
his mood, but he shivered, wondering uneasily if it was
an ill omen.

Julian had intended to rush home at perhaps a little

less precipitate a pace than he'd employed to get to the
theater, but dread slowed his steps. What would he find?
Alex unchanged, hours after the blow that had robbed
him of his senses? Or Alex worse, slipping away from
him?

He made a choked sound, pitiful to his ears, and

clenched his hands into fists. A young couple passed by,
their arms linked companionably, staring at him
curiously, and he heard them whisper to each other, a
muffled giggle coming from the woman.

He wanted to turn and berate them, but it seemed

pointless. It wouldn't aid Alex in any way.

His journey took him close to the square where they'd

first met, and reluctant to return, hating himself for his
cowardice, Julian walked there instead of going home.
The square was empty of stalls now, and though there
were people passing through it and some youngsters
sitting on the edge of the fountain, laughing and pushing
each other, the large space was relatively peaceful.

Julian walked to the justice stocks and stared at them,

picturing Alex kneeling. The image seemed barbaric

Spoken from the Heart - 217

now, appalling him. His Alex, his Pippin, as wholesome
and sweet as the fruit he'd named him after, and, at times,
as green, to be treated like that? The city was no place
for him. Alex had made friends, yes, but he stumbled
into pitfalls that the lads over by the fountain, even
though they were years younger, would have
instinctively avoided.

Maybe caution and an awareness of danger would

come with time, but did Alex have that time?

Heedless of his finery, for he'd dressed that morning

with an eye to the later celebrations, Julian sank to his
knees, his legs no longer supporting him, and bent over,
the cobblestones smooth and rounded under his palms.
Sickness swept through him, making him dizzy and hot,
his stomach rebelling. He fought to avoid throwing up
and achieved a victory of sorts, though his mouth filled
with saliva that he spat out with a shudder.

Making an effort, he got to his feet. No more dallying.

He would return home, to Alex. It was where he
belonged. With a new purpose, he left the square,
stumbling now and then as he found his legs, but driven
by determination.

He could not lose Alex. He would not. He'd saved

Alex once, and though he could not intervene directly as
he'd done before, he could still be there by his side.

"Lady, look after him," he said aloud and turned his

face up to the night sky, where the Lady's light should
be, finding nothing but clouds and a dim illumination
from behind them, ghostly and pale.

"You're still there," he told her.

***

Spoken from the Heart - 218

"No, there's been no change, Master Melville. I've

bathed his poor head with lavender water, and I'm
burning a candle infused with herbs to help ease his
chest, but he just lies there." Mistress Paterson shook her
head. "If you're willing to stay with him for a moment,
I'll go and brew us some tea and maybe you'd like to
join me in a meal? I've brought some cold chicken with
me and an apple cake."

"I'm not hungry, but the tea would be most welcome.

Please, take anything you need from the pantry for your
supper. There's bread and honey, I know. I'll call down
if anything changes."

"He said you were a nice-mannered gentleman," she

observed with a satisfied smile. "Very well, sir."

Left alone, Julian could allow his face to show his

concern. He went over to the bed and sank to his knees
beside it, taking one of Alex's lax, overly warm hands in
his. "Come back to me," Pippin," he said, and then bent
his head to pray to the Lady, words from childhood
prayers learned by rote slipping from his lips, the simple
phrases comforting because they required no thought.
He was dimly aware of the nurse coming over to set a
cup of tea beside him, of the pat she gave his shoulder,
but his attention was bent on Alex's face.

He fell into a light doze, his head pillowed on the bed,

his body twisted awkwardly, and was roused by a low,
vehement muttering. Startled, he glanced at Alex and
saw the pale lips move, a stream of disjointed words
emerging.

"Oh, Lady, thank you!" He got to his feet and cried

out as his cramped, numbed legs protested. Collapsing
onto the chair the nurse had been using, ignoring the
vicious stab of pins and needles, he leaned over, peering
anxiously at Alex.

Spoken from the Heart - 219

The words held no sense or meaning, spoken so low

Julian had to strain to hear them, and Alex's eyes
remained closed. He wanted to call for the nurse, but
could not bring himself to leave Alex or to disturb or
frighten him by shouting.

"Poetry is not for the weak-minded," Alex said

clearly, and opened his eyes.

Julian opened his mouth and found himself unable to

speak. He smiled tentatively instead, leaning forward so
Alex could see him.

Green eyes stared through him as if he were made of

glass or air. "You are a fool, your mind as narrow as the
path you walk to reach your fields."

Delirious, but conscious. Julian clung to the positive

and tried not to shiver. It was uncanny to watch and
listen as Alex recreated a conversation from long ago --
with his father, perhaps? Julian felt as if he was a ghost,
eavesdropping on those still living.

Julian tried to interrupt, but Alex frowned with

irritation and closed his eyes, slipping away again to
somewhere out of Julian's reach.

Mistress Paterson climbed the stairs. "I've not been

far," she assured him. "I heard voices."

"He's wandering in his wits, but he roused enough to

speak, if only for a short while." Julian glanced at her.
"That -- that's a good sign, isn't it?"

"'Deed it is," she said, and came over to set a fresh

cup of tea beside him. "Drink this, sir, and I'll bring you
some of my cake. No, don't tell me you're not hungry.
You need to eat. With your permission, I'll start off
some chicken stewing so that I can make broth
tomorrow."

"Of course -- anything." He watched as she went over

to the other side of the bed -- his bed, the bed he'd been

Spoken from the Heart - 220

sharing with Alex, the two of them naked as fish,
delighting in each other, sleeping soundly and waking to
touch, kiss, caress… With unhurried movements, she
rested her hand against Alex's face and then raised his
head a little, supporting it with another pillow.

Julian had to stop himself from telling her Alex hated

sleeping with two pillows under his head. Whatever
Alex was doing, it wasn't sleeping, the natural
restorative every man needed. This was a withdrawal
from the world or an exile.

"He'll do," she said comfortably, and left Julian to sip

his tea, each swallow hurting his throat because it was
crammed full of sorrow.

When she returned, it was late enough that Julian

didn't protest when she ordered him to bed.

"You'll do the lad no good if you fall sick yourself,

sir, and that's what will happen if you don't take care of
yourself. Time and time again, I've seen it. The patient
lives and one of his family is taken and it's always the
one who's fretted themselves to flinders, refused to take
as much as a bite or close their eyes. It does no good to
no one."

"I suppose not, but I feel--"
"Guilty? No need for that nonsense, either." She

firmed up her mouth. "I'll be in here with him, and I'll
rouse at the slightest noise, never you fear."

"But where will you sleep?" Julian glanced around

helplessly, but she nodded at the large armchair in the
corner, usually draped with clothing, but cleared now.

"That chair and a footstool before it will do very well,

sir."

Julian's face heated. He'd put Alex in that chair the

week before, naked and grinning. Hooked his legs over
the arms and exposed him completely, with the smile

Spoken from the Heart - 221

fading from Alex's face as passion replaced it. Alex had
bitten his lip, glanced down at his prick, sweet and hard,
and blushed divinely without ever shrinking from
Julian's gaze or the brush of Julian's fingers.

He'd gone to his knees, tasted what he'd stared at,

driven well-oiled fingers into the taut, tight hole that
welcomed him shyly…

And now this small, neat woman was to sleep there,

watching over Alex.

With tears stinging his eyes -- unexpected, shameful

tears, Julian took himself off to bed. He'd expected sleep
to elude him, but it came before the pillow had dried his
wet cheek.

Spoken from the Heart - 222

Chapter Eighteen

By the fifth day of Alex's illness, a routine of sorts

had been established. It was frightening, Julian reflected,
how quickly he'd come to accept that Alex was no
longer with him as companion, friend, lover, but only as
an immobile shape in their bed. His nose no longer
wrinkled at the odor of the sickroom, the herbal candles
imperfectly masking the earthier stink of waste and
sweat. As for Mistress Paterson, why she'd always been
there, brewing up cordials and broths that she gave to
Alex through a child's feeding cup.

On the fifth morning, Alex was more restless than

before, muttering to himself, as he did at intervals, but
thrashing around as if he fought some enemy in his fever
dreams. Julian, woken early by the hoarse cries from
what had once been his room, was weary to his bones,
but he sat beside Alex, holding his hand, and talked to
him. That usually helped.

"The play is going well, and every seat is taken. At

least -- the reviews are good, but Patrick is not himself.
I'd set it down to his grief, but I think he has that under
control, as much as can be expected, at least. He
coughed many times last night, and he stumbled twice
during our sword fight. I wrenched my shoulder trying
not to hit him with my sword. I don't think he's well. Not
the fever, no, not that, but maybe your cold, sweetheart.
You must not be so generous with your possessions."

He waited, but no glimmer of a smile appeared on

Alex's face. Well, it hadn't been much of a joke.

"He's dosing himself up with all manner of

concoctions, and his mother appears with more almost
every hour, fussing over him anxiously. One cannot

Spoken from the Heart - 223

blame her, I suppose, but she's so fearful she's making
Patrick think himself worse than he is."

He paused for a moment, his mouth dry from sleep.

Lady, but he wanted to piss, to take his tea, eat
something, bathe… Activities he'd taken for granted
before, but now achieved with difficulty. Scarcely a
meal went by without him needing to climb the stairs to
where Alex stirred restlessly, and his time at the theater
was kept as short as possible.

Alex moaned, protesting Julian's silence, a frown

carving deep lines into his forehead. Julian touched it
with his fingers, trying to smooth the lines away. Alex's
skin felt hot and dry. He dipped a cloth in water, wrung
it out into the bowl, and laid it across Alex's head. The
wound had healed well, with no sign of infection, but
the physician still spoke of cutting into Alex.

Julian had held firm in his refusal to allow that. It

wasn't superstition, but a conviction that to do so would
be a mistake. Based as it was on nothing but what his
heart told him, he wasn't too surprised the physician had
greeted his refusal with a scornful grunt.

Mistress Paterson came in. "Your breakfast is on the

table, Master Julian, and you're to take a bath
afterwards."

"He seems to be worse today," Julian said.
"That's sometimes a good sign."
Julian stood, rounding on her, for once not grateful

for her soothing words. "How can it be? He's worse, I
tell you! His skin is on fire, yet it's dry as stone, his
words make no sense, and he's so restless I fear he'll fall
out of the bed and injure himself still more. A good
sign? Darkness take it, what foolishness is that?"

Spoken from the Heart - 224

Her face flushed, but her voice was steady. "It's the

crisis, sir." No friendly 'Master Julian' now. "I've seen it
many a time. Today will see an end to it."

"One way or another?" Julian tasted the bitterness of

defeat. "I see." He sketched out a helpless gesture,
already regretting his outburst. "I'm sorry for my tone."

"You're stretched so thin," she said, excusing him

easily. "Eat, sir, and bathe. You'll feel the better for it."

"He doesn't like it when I go away."
"No, but I'll be here."
She urged him over to the door, implacable and kind.

As he made his way downstairs, he heard her thin voice
raised in a lullaby, the familiar words sung against a
background of incoherent mutterings from Alex.

It was hard to leave the room, but it was just as

difficult to return there, his bath a brief splash, not the
long soak he'd hoped for, to help tie Alex down to the
bed for his own sake.

***

"You want your understudy to go on tonight?"

Sampton drummed his fingers on his desk, the sound
rasping Julian's nerves. "The play's barely opened and
Selwyn needs longer watching you before he's ready to
fill your shoes. No."

"I cannot leave Alex today. His nurse thinks a few

hours will see a change, and if it's for the best or not, I
must be there with him." Julian hadn't even sat. He stood
by the door, poised to leave, impatient with Sampton's
quibbles. "Selwyn will do a fine job -- well, he'll be
adequate -- and it's good experience for him."

"He might do so well, I let him have the role." It was

a threat that at any other time would have made Julian

Spoken from the Heart - 225

bristle angrily, but he couldn't find it in himself to
defend his superior abilities with any eloquence when
they both knew how empty the threat was. Sampton
knew who the better actor was: let that suffice.

"Whatever you think best."
Sampton drew in an outraged breath. "What I think

best is that my leading man -- aye, that's you, Melville,
no matter what role you're given -- is here, playing the
role he's rehearsed, bringing in the crowds who love you,
Lady help them."

"I am here," Julian said through his teeth. "I haven't

missed a performance in years, and I'm giving you
ample notice for tonight. It's no matter. One night, that's
all."

"But you don't know something I do. The duke will

be here." Sampton smirked. "Aye, I thought that would
change your mind. He comes in a small party and wishes
no special treatment--" Julian couldn't help joining
Sampton as they cast up their eyes at that piece of
nonsense. "But he mentioned that seeing you in a serious
role would be most intriguing."

"His evening will not be ruined if he doesn't. Let him

return another night." Julian ran his hand through his
hair impatiently. "From his box, I doubt he'll even know
it's not me he's watching."

"He wishes to see you after the play."
"Then he'll be disappointed, won't he?" Julian

snapped. "Lady save us, Sampton, spin him a tale of my
concern for my dying lover heart-rending enough to
have him weeping like his watering-pot of a daughter. I
care not how thickly you spread the butter so that he
swallows my absence."

Spoken from the Heart - 226

For a moment, a flicker of concern showed through

the exasperation on Sampton's broad face. "'Dying'? Has
it really come to that?"

Julian's feet itched to be on their way. "Perhaps. I

have not yet given up hope, but -- oh, I cannot speak of
it! Do not keep me further."

"Very well," Sampton said slowly. "I'll speak to

Selwyn." He pointed his finger at Julian, stabbing the air.
"But you're here tomorrow, understand me?"

"By tomorrow, it won't matter where I am." Julian

raised his hand in a half-hearted farewell and took his
first deep breath only when he was out in the street again,
free.

***

"I agree, the crisis is coming," Philps said. "Will you

not reconsider and--"

"You mean it for the best, I know, but I haven't

changed my mind. The cut on his head has healed; see,
the bruising has faded now, and there's no bump.
Whatever is amiss inside his skull is far beyond your
skill to mend." Philps drew himself up at that, and Julian
added wearily, "I mean no offense. I know that great
strides have been made in recent years and you
physicians can save many that in our fathers' day
would've been lost, but this? No."

"It's true it would be in the nature of an experiment,"

Philps allowed, "but without such experimentation,
those strides you speak of would be faltering steps.
Allow me to speak bluntly. He is close to dying. What
harm could it do?"

"He is not dying!"

Spoken from the Heart - 227

"He's starving," Philps said. "The little nourishment

the nurse has persuaded him to swallow is not enough.
He's -- he was -- a healthy young man, which gives him
reserves upon which to draw, but it's been nearly a week.
Those reserves are exhausted."

Julian looked at Alex, fitfully mumbling as he had

been for hours now, the words emerging from dry,
cracked lips. His cheeks were sunken, the tanned skin
waxy and sallow, the once bright hair lank and dark
against the pillow.

"I have not given up hope." He took his seat beside

Alex, his hands wrapped around one of Alex's, willing
him to wake.

"Stubborn as you ever were. Well, I can do no more

here," Philps said, with the air of one tried beyond his
limits. He nodded to Nurse Paterson, a silent witness to
the scene. "I'll send in my bill."

"It will be paid in full," Julian said, and didn't trouble

to show the physician out or bid him farewell.

"He's quieter when you speak to him," the nurse said

when she returned. "He's wearing himself out talking
and thrashing about so."

"My mind is empty," Julian confessed. "I've chattered

to him without ceasing about the most inconsequential
affairs, read to him from his favorite books--"

"Why don't you give him some speeches from one of

your plays?" she suggested. "You told me that he was
fond of them."

"Oh, he was -- no, he is." Julian smiled faintly. "He

would rehearse with me, book in hand, feeding me my
cues, his eyes shining. He's from the Westerlings and
they don't much care for the theater, or for reading."

"My cousin married a trader from there," Nurse

Paterson said. "She seemed happy enough with him

Spoken from the Heart - 228

from her letters." Her tone implied dark doubt about the
supposed marital felicity, but she didn't volunteer any
details, for which Julian was profoundly grateful.

She left him with Alex, and Julian sighed and cleared

his throat. The scores of speeches he held captured in his
head and not one came forward as suitable…

Oh, what did it matter? He recited one of his favorite

speeches from Silence Falls, speaking to an audience of
one.

"'You have taken nobility and cast it down, as a child

throws away a toy in search of one better, bored with its
homely lines. For the glitter of an empire, foully won,
torn treaties blood-stained in tatters at your feet, you
have betrayed your people, your birthright, your crown.

No, do not glare at me, the icy stare of a king

enraged. I speak as one who was once a friend, and
always a subject. My loyalty is to the crown, and though
once that encompassed the man who wore it, now I see
him for what he is, a tyrant, greedy for power, hungry
for land, a---'"

His voice faltered, but Alex had turned his head

slightly, as if he was listening, and the endless murmur
had ceased. Julian wet his lips and continued, speaking
the lines of the king in their turn, as at home with
Patrick's role as he was his own.

The afternoon dwindled into evening and Alex's life

seemed to fade with it. His breathing was harsh now,
each in and out gasp a noisy struggle, painful to hear.
His hands clawed fitfully at the sheets, his bare chest
dappled with sweat, like the flanks of a horse ridden into
the ground.

Julian talked until his voice cracked, while the nurse

bathed Alex's body, taking the heat from it as best she
could. From time to time, she coaxed some cordial

Spoken from the Heart - 229

between Alex's lips, but the effort of swallowing seemed
too much for him, and more often than not, he would
cough and choke, spasms wracking his body.

"What ails him?" Julian said helplessly. "Is it the

illness or the blow to the head? Neither seems sufficient
to kill him."

"The city's a chancy place for those not used to it."

She dabbed lavender oil on Alex's temples, crooning to
him under her breath. "The river air, the illnesses that
plague us so often… He's not used to it, poor lad,
coming from the country as he does."

"I had not thought of that." Julian's hand was

cramped from the tight grip Alex had on it. Sometimes
his grip would slacken, his palm open, cupping air, a
vulnerable hollow of skin and bone, but mostly he clung
to Julian with uncanny strength. "Even so, he's a strong
man, I know of none with his bravery, his purpose."

"He needs to wake," she said. "Wake and know you,

then sleep. If we can but get him to rouse from his
swoon…"

"I've called his name, commanded him, scolded,

cajoled…" Julian felt no tears prick hotly at his eyes as
they might have a few days ago. He'd moved beyond
tears.

When love speaks, none who listens may ignore its

clarion call.

That was from Ardent Hearts, though it wasn't

spoken by Julian's character. He heard it inside his head
and sighed. Love? Aye, he loved Alex; it was pointless
to pretend he didn't. The threat of losing Alex had
opened his blind, willfully closed eyes to a truth Alex
had seen weeks before. He loved Alex, deeply,
profoundly, tenderly, with all the passion of which he
was capable. Loved the troublesome, engaging lad he'd

Spoken from the Heart - 230

met and the serious, hardworking man Alex had proven
to be. Loved his enthusiasms, his wide-eyed wonder,
and his ability to make friends. Loved the sweet body
that responded to his touch so ardently, giving pleasure
for pleasure with unstinting generosity.

Too late to tell Alex now, but when the nurse left to

refill the basin with cool water, Julian leaned over,
kissed the dry, bleeding lips, and said softly, "I love you,
Pippin. Wake so I can tell you that again with my lips,
my actions, and my every look. Please, Pippin. Please."

If he'd expected his profession of love to bring about

a miracle, he was disappointed. Alex gave no sign of
hearing or comprehending.

Julian surged to his feet, his chair clattering to the

floor. "Darkness take it, answer me!"

Nothing.
Breathing in sharp, angry gulps that hurt his chest, he

strode to the window and wrenched it open, letting in a
cool, damp breeze. A soft rain was falling and the air
tasted of salt, the wind blowing from the ocean. Nurse
Paterson had forbidden the opening of the window, but
what could it matter now? Let Alex's final breaths be of
fresh air, not the stale miasma of the sickroom.

From below, he heard a knock at the door, a

peremptory rat-a-tat-tat that had his head jerking around,
the noise an affront to the settled melancholy muffling
the house.

He heard the nurse open the door and listed with dull

apathy as she spoke to the caller, her voice rising as she
tried to make the visitor leave. After a moment, she
appeared in the doorway. "Sir -- at the door. A young
boy, cheeky as they come. He says he must speak with
you."

Spoken from the Heart - 231

Julian glanced at the bed, but Alex seemed no longer

to care if he was speaking. With a weary shrug, he went
downstairs to find young Tom Sampton waiting there.

"Be off with you," Julian said, too exhausted to be

tactful. "How dare you come to disturb me like this?"

"Got a message from Master Sampton. Said I was to

give it to you and wait while you read it." Tom peered
past Julian. "Is he still alive, then?"

Julian snatched the letter from Tom's hand and gave

him a glare that had the boy shrinking back, if only for a
moment.

The letter was a scrawl of black ink, the words

forceful and succinct.

Rathes has lost his voice, doubtless due to the

nostrums his mother's been pouring down his throat.
You're his understudy. I can hold the curtain for a while,
but you must leave immediately on receipt of this. Do
not fail me.

It was unsigned. It didn't need to be.
Julian leaned against the door, his thoughts chaotic.

To play the king! To show the city that he was capable,
no, born to take Galliero's place. And in front of the
duke, no less, whose patronage could assure his rise to
glorious heights…

His future shone bright before his eyes, fresh energy

filling him, together with a longing, inexpressibly strong,
to rush to the theater and don the heavy robes of the king,
wearing them with a careless swagger, certain of his
power and legacy, until they began to drag at him and he
became a shrunken shadow, a defeated, abandoned
ghost…

"You'll come then?" The brash, nasal tones

interrupted his brief dream, and Julian, with regret, but

Spoken from the Heart - 232

not for his choice as much as the damnably timing of it
all, shook his head.

"I cannot leave Alex."
"But--" Tom goggled at him, speechless with shock.

Why had he never noticed how fish-like the boy's mouth
was, an ugly wide thing, flapping aimlessly? Tom
swallowed and for once spoke from the heart, his
distress genuine. "The theater will be dark."

The theater will be dark.
Despite himself, Julian shivered. There were nights

when the theater was closed, to be sure, but that was
different, a planned, deliberate closure to allow for
refurbishment or on Ladysnight when a ducal order
forbade any to work.

For the theater to go dark this close to curtain rise,

because no actor could be found to play the lead role,
was…Julian had no words for the enormity of it. Even
without the added complication of the duke's attendance,
it would mark the Pinnacle, stain its reputation dark as
pitch, stinking like week-old fish. Actors would leave it,
patrons would turn elsewhere for their entertainment.

Alex did not know if he was in the room. Not now.

The time when Julian's voice was all that could calm
him had passed and Alex was sinking deep, beyond the
reach of Julian's outstretched hand.

Staying to watch the final breath leave the wracked,

tortured body wouldn't help Alex, and it would place
terrible memories in Julian's head, strong enough to
expunge the happier ones. It might be even that he could
hurry home after the performance -- after saving the
Pinnacle, by the Lady! -- and still be in time, still get to
say farewell…

He was always grateful that he'd shaken his head and

turned to go back inside, his decision made, before the

Spoken from the Heart - 233

nurse called, her voice frantic, her professional calm
deserting her.

He closed the door in Tom's face with a kick and ran

up the stairs, his heart thudding wildly. Blood was
pouring from Alex's nose and down his face, bright as
paint, and he was choking, trying to breathe.

"What happened? Why is he bleeding?" Julian shook

his head, abandoning his questions in favor of action. He
grabbed a towel from the table and hurried over to the
bed.

The nurse snatched it from him and used it to stem

the crimson flood. Her hands were slick with blood, and
it was spattered over the front of her dress, patterning it
in spots and dribbles, a child's painting. She spoke in
slipped, precise tones, in control again. "He began to
bleed. Nothing caused it that I could see. Help me raise
him before he chokes on it. He cannot catch his breath."

Julian slid his arm under Alex's shoulders and

brought him upright, cradling him against his chest.
Alex was at once lighter than he was used to and a dead
weight, but Julian anchored him with his arms, allowing
the nurse to pinch the bridge of Alex's nose in an
attempt to stop the nosebleed.

The blood flowed steadily, darker now and thicker.

Alex moaned, struggling in Julian's grip, but he held on,
heedless of the tears falling down his face like rain after
drought.

"It's slowing," Nurse Paterson said in a whisper, and

took the towel away. "See?"

It was. From a flow, to a trickle, to a few drops. Alex

sighed, sniffed, and murmured crossly, "My head aches
vilely. Julian, did I get drunk again?"

Spoken from the Heart - 234

Joy, shock, a dawning hope -- then Alex turned his

head into Julian's shoulder and snored, his face sticky
with blood, his skin warm, but not burning hot.

"The crisis," Nurse Paterson said. "Lady be praised,

he's survived it!"

"At the cost of the last set of clean sheets in the house

and my second-best jerkin," Julian said, in a voice that
shook oddly, but he kissed the top of Alex's head as he
said it and tightened his embrace.

"He'll sleep now," the nurse told him. "I'll clean him,

but I'll wager he won't stir, bless him. You should clean
yourself, too, sir."

"I will, I will." Reluctant to let Alex slip from his

arms, Julian bowed to practicality and settled Alex back
on a bed that looked as if murder had been done on it, or
an animal slaughtered. "I'll take the sheets off the bed in
the other room -- or, no, wash him here and then I'll
carry him though to it. This bed isn't fit to sleep on."

"That's a good notion."
Julian sluiced down and changed into fresh clothing,

his mind blank and empty and a buzzing sound in his
ears. There was no path for happiness to enter his head,
not yet. He had simply ceased to think.

Once Alex, still daubed here and there with specks of

blood, but less gory a sight than before, had been settled
in what had once been his bed, Julian poured himself a
tot of brandy and offered one to the nurse.

"Well, if you're so kind, then, yes, sir, I will."
"To the Lady." Julian tossed back his drink in one

gulp. He settled Nurse Paterson in a chair and smiled at
her. "You have been a rock," he said simply.

"It's my job to care for the sick, sir, and it was my

pleasure." She took a dainty sip at her brandy. "Tell me,
who was that saucebox at the door then?"

Spoken from the Heart - 235

"He was from the theater," Julian said. "He wanted --

oh!" He sprang to his feet.

"Master Julian?"
"Alex is safe, yes?"
"I would say so, Lady willing--"
"And he will sleep for the next, oh, four hours, you

think?"

"He'll sleep the night through, if I'm any judge."
"Then I can go!" Julian said, triumph filling him. "I

can take Patrick's part and all will be well."

"As to that--"
Julian swooped down and kissed her bewildered face.

"Dear lady, I will be back as soon as I'm able, I swear it.
Take care of him for me, I pray."

He ran, fleet of foot, his heart singing, to the Pinnacle,

picturing his rapturous welcome, the storm of applause
that would greet him from a sympathetic audience.
Understudies who stepped in at the last moment were
given the warmest of receptions, any small mistakes
glossed over and forgiven -- but he would make none!

He reached the great doors at the front where the

public entered and found them barred, a crowd before
them milling about purposelessly, their voices loud and
angry.

Julian winced. Ah, well, the doors would open soon

enough…

He made his way around to the back and slipped

through the door into the backstage area, crowded with
people. Faces turned to him, and silence fell, spreading
like a dark shadow.

"I'm here," Julian said, and knew it wasn't enough.

"We -- we can open."

The crowd of actors and stagehands parted to allow

Sampton through.

Spoken from the Heart - 236

"Can we, indeed. Tell me, Master Meville, how do

you propose we do that when the duke has closed us for
a month as a penalty for disappointing his daughter?"

A month? Julian shook his head in a denial as

fruitless as his race to the theater. "He will reconsider,
see how unjust that is--"

"He's the duke of Sorrent!" Sampton roared, in a

voice that could fill a theater with a whisper. It was
painful to be so close to such a bellow." He doesn't have
to do anything if it doesn't please him to do so. You've
ruined us with your lovesick simperings, you fool." He
gave Julian a look that could have turned milk sour.
"Your country boy with the sweet eyes and the shy smile.
Your little Pippin." He made the name sound cloyingly,
nauseatingly sentimental. "I hope he's dead, and I wish
you were with him."

"You dare ill-wish him so?" Anger, as hot as fire and

dark as night swelled within Julian, a monstrous growth.
He drove his fist at Sampton's jaw and winced when his
knuckles cracked against bone. Sampton swayed but
didn't fall, his hand flying up to his face." He lives! The
Lady blessed him and he lives. That matters more to me
than the duke's anger or yours."

"More to you than us going without wages for a

month?" called a man from the crowd. He pushed his
way through to stand by Sampton. It was Richard
Tennant, an actor whose strength lay in his forgettable
face, allowing him to play several roles within the same
play after a change of costume or a different wig and not
be recognized by the audience. Julian had always
counted him as a friend, if only because they'd known
each other for years without disagreeing. Richard's face
was twisted into an ugly scowl now. "Darkness take you,
Melville! The Lady didn't need you there to save the lad.

Spoken from the Heart - 237

I'm not sorry he lives -- I liked him -- but you belonged
here, with us."

The chorus of agreement that followed shook Julian's

conviction that he'd made the right choice, but it was
done and nothing could change it.

"I belonged where I could save the life of someone

dear to me. He needed me. If I'd left it's possible he
would have faded--" He was losing them, he could tell.
Julian had always been able to gauge the mood of an
audience with exquisite accuracy, and influence it,
within limits, but these were his people and they knew
all his tricks.

"I'm sorry," he said, and hoped the simple truth

would win them over. "I meant none of this. I came as
soon as I could." He tried a rueful smile. "I hadn't
realized how indispensable I was. Could no one but me
have stepped into Patrick's shoes? They must be larger
than he thinks."

The attempt at humor and deflecting some of the

blame was clumsily done. At any other time, Patrick's
failure to show up would have earned him scorn, if not
outright hostility, but there was enough lingering
sympathy for him to prevent that.

Julian looked from face to face, seeing anger,

disappointment, and disgust. Duncan stood apart from
the rest, his arms folded across his chest, his face
shadowed. Maybe he wasn't ready to join in with
damning Julian, but he hadn't chosen to stand beside him
either.

"The leading role? How could anyone but you

perform it?" Sarcasm lay heavy on Sampton's words.
"Such a high opinion of yourself…but maybe when the
time came to prove your ability, you found your

Spoken from the Heart - 238

confidence lacking, hmm? Did we go dark to spare your
blushes?"

It was so unexpected an accusation that Julian

floundered for a reply. So ridiculous, too. As if he'd ever
doubted himself as an actor! Why, when he'd heard what
was on offer, he'd wanted nothing more than the chance
to play King Henry. It was concern for Alex, nothing
else, that had made his refusal the only choice.

"No, that's simply not the--"
"You're right," Richard said. Julian glared at him. "So

he gets stage fright and we pay for it."

"I have never--"
Richard advanced on him, making Julian take a quick

step back. He'd never realized it before, but Richard was
a burly man, an inch taller than he, with hands that
seemed larger when they were doubled up into fists.

"I've got children to feed," Richard said softly, "you

puffed-up, pompous coward."

"And I've brought the audiences in that meant they

had meat on the table, not just bread and cheese." He
would not back down, would not retreat an inch.

Richard's fist plowed into his get, making him retch

as he fought for air, bent in half like a hairpin. It hurt.
Hurt his stomach, hurt his pride. Eyes watering, still
making sounds that distressed his ears they were so
uncontrolled, so lacking in dignity, he swung his fist at
Richard.

He missed.
Richard grinned, wide and bright. "Thought you

could hold your own in a fight, Master Melville. Was
that just the ale talking, then?"

Julian could vaguely remember telling Richard once

about a bar brawl he'd been an unwilling participant in --
and yes, he'd been drunk both during the fight and the

Spoken from the Heart - 239

recounting, but he hadn't lied when he'd said he'd
acquitted himself well.

Of course, he'd only been drunk, not exhausted and

lightheaded from relief and hunger. Lately, sleep and
meals had been luxuries, not necessities. He'd been
roused from sleep over and again by a restless Alex, and
the effort of eating had made it a burden he'd willingly
shrugged off.

Another blow, this time to his face. Unlike Sampton,

Julian fell, measuring his length on the floor, the force
of the blow leaving him breathless with shock, not pain,
though that came quickly on shock's heels.

A kick to his side rolled him to his belly and once

there he was helpless, struggling like a beetle in honey,
every attempt to get up thwarted by a kick until he
thought his ribs must resemble an eggshell tapped by a
spoon. The indignity pained him more than the kicks,
but rising to confront his assailant was beyond him. Part
of him welcomed the pain. It sluiced away the guilt he
was feeling. The toe of Richard's boot dug into his flesh
cruelly; the sideways kicks left a swathe of skin aching
fiercely. He tried to curl into a ball, a turtle retreating
into its shell, but he was vulnerable in so many places…

"Enough." Duncan, his voice harsh, uncompromising,

ended Julian's ordeal just as his vision had begun to
darken, unconsciousness offering an escape from the
agony of his brutalized, beaten body. "We were once
friends. I’ll not stand by and let you murder him before
my eyes."

Richard spat on the floor, narrowly missing Julian's

face. He could see the spittle, a slimy blob of it,
quivering and foul, and even suffering as he was, he
made an effort and moved a few inches away from it. If

Spoken from the Heart - 240

it'd touched him, he would've risen to his feet and
punched Richard if it cost him his life.

"Take him out of here then. Throw him out."
"Since when do you give orders in my theater?"

Sampton demanded, rounding on Richard. It hurt his
face, but Julian smiled. Allies and equals for a moment,
no more than that, hmm, Richard?

"I meant no disrespect." Richard sounded surly

enough that it only seemed to inflame Sampton more.
Cheated of one victim -- and Julian was doing his best to
appear unconscious now -- Sampton chose another, and
under cover of the argument that broke out, Duncan
dragged Julian out of sight.

Being dragged hurt and was doubtless ruining his

clothes, but Julian endured the most ignominious exit of
his career stoically. In a way, he deserved it. The theater
had dozens of small traditions that had hardened over
time into rules. Julian would always misquote a line
deliberately on his birthday for luck, would never wear
green on opening night, turned three times clockwise if
he heard anyone whistling backstage…but they were
slender cords binding theater folk together. Numerous,
but thin. What anchored them securely was the belief
that nothing mattered but the performance.

Nothing.
He'd broken faith. He'd done it for love's sake, but

that made no difference.

Once they were out of sight, Duncan crouched beside

him. "Can you walk?"

"No, but if you help me up, I'll try."
Duncan was a strong man. He raised Julian with a

clean, smooth jerk and held him steady when the agony
of what was surely a broken rib or two grinding against
each other made Julian's head swim sickeningly. A flask

Spoken from the Heart - 241

was pressed against his mouth, the fumes of cheap
brandy wafting up to sting his nose. He drank,
swallowing as painful as every other action, even
blinking, and the pungent liquid clawed at his gullet.

The world ceased to waver like a reflection in water.

He took another gulp for good measure, then nodded at
Duncan. Duncan didn't look particularly friendly, but
that came as no surprise. The theater had saved Duncan's
sanity after his wife's death; he would have taken
Julian's refusal to perform hard. What was surprising
was his intervention and assistance.

Their gazes met.
"I will not thank you because you don't want

anything from me, not even that, unless I miss my guess,
but you -- ah, Lady that hurts! -- you have put me in
your debt."

"I've saved your life," Duncan said bluntly. He led

Julian away, half-carrying him. "You fool, why did you
come here?"

"I didn't know it would be too late." Talking was

difficult, but it helped to take very shallow breaths and
whisper. "Thought I'd be a hero, saving the day."

Duncan snorted. "I can see how the idea would

appeal."

Once outside, it was easier to breathe, but Julian

wasn't sure he could reach the haven of his home
unaided. "Might I impose on your kindness a little
more?"

"No. I've done all that I can." Duncan propped Julian

up against a wall, the stone cool against his hands as he
braced himself. "Go home. Don't come here again,
Julian. Not after this."

"I never realized I was so hated."

Spoken from the Heart - 242

Something that might have been pity shone in

Duncan's eyes. "They don't hate you. They're angry,
upset. You're the perfect scapegoat. If you'd stayed away,
maybe it would've been Patrick, but you offered yourself
up, you fool."

"Stupid," Julian agreed.
"And all for that boy." Duncan shook his head. "Have

you lost your mind? You've known him a month or two,
and from what he told me when he was drunk one night,
you told him you didn't love him. How did you come to
care deeply enough to do this?"

"By coming close to losing him." Julian tilted his

chin up defiantly. "Would you have given up your last
hours with Mary? Would you?"

Duncan flinched visibly, his face twisted in

remembered grief. "You have no right," he said, his
voice thick. "No right. She was my wife. My baby died
with her. Your boy is a passing fancy, a hole to fuck."

"He's never been that," Julian said, and knew it to be

the truth. "I rescued him as I would have saved a stray
dog from his tormentors. I fed him, clothed him, gave
him the chance to make something of his new life. And I
fell in love with him the moment I saw him, though I
didn't know it then. He is mine and I am his." He
straightened, pushing away from the wall and swaying
uncertainly, drunk on pain. "I will leave now. Good
night, Duncan. My thanks once again."

That was a better exit. Much better.

Spoken from the Heart - 243

Chapter Nineteen

Alex woke and was conscious of hunger so intense

that his gut cramped with it. He moaned in protest, taken
back to the days of his journey and his time alone in the
city, when an empty belly was an enemy to fight,
impossible to ignore.

Forcing his eyes to open, though they were gummed

shut, he found himself staring at Julian, sleeping beside
him, face bruised and swollen.

"You will not wake him. He's dosed with poppy and

should sleep 'til noon."

The voice was a low murmur, comfortingly kind, but

Alex still yelped in shock and turned to face the speaker
with his heart racing.

Once he saw he was being addressed by a small,

elderly lady, with the cap that proclaimed her a nurse, he
relaxed somewhat. With an apologetic smile, he
murmured back, "What ails him? And…have I been sick,
too? I remember…"

What did he remember? The taste of blood in his

mouth, and his head -- oh Lady, he'd thought his skull
was shrinking and compressing all within it. Such pain,
such terror, and he'd been unable to call for help, trapped
in a darkness that had held no glimmer of light.

"You fell and struck your head. You're on the mend

now," he was told in a voice that brooked no dissent.
"Master Julian will be sore and sorry for himself when
he wakes, and for some time after, too, but it's nothing to
worry about."

Alex accepted that because he was still dream-caught

and in a dream arguing was rarely productive. He smiled
at her drowsily. "I'm so hungry," he confessed.

Spoken from the Heart - 244

"No wonder." She patted his face as if they were old

friends. "I've got broth on the stove."

Alex wanted more than broth, but when he was

sitting propped up in bed drinking it, he realized it was
better suited to his empty stomach than the more
substantial fare he'd craved. Shreds of chicken floated in
the clear broth and it was delicately seasoned, filling his
mouth with flavor.

"Thank you," he said, after drinking two bowls,

glancing at Julian between swallows to see if he was
stirring. "I'm Alex, but I suppose you know that if
you've been nursing me. Thank you for that, too."

"I'm Mistress Paterson." She shook her head, tutting

at him. "You had us both so worried. Nearly lost you,
we did."

He'd come close to dying? Alex shook his head,

rejecting that implausibility. "You said I hit my head,"
he objected. "If that was all--"

He put up his hand, exploring his face gingerly and

quickly finding the place. It was tender to the touch, but
not overly painful to prod.

"You've been in a swoon for nearly a week," she told

him tartly. "Raving and thrashing about or lying there
like you were dead already. All!"

Alex groaned in sheer frustration. "Why can't I

remember? And Julian -- Master Melville I mean--" It
occurred to him since they were sharing a bed, it was a
little silly to speak of Julian so formally, but he let it
stand. Alex didn't touch Julian, much though he wanted
to smooth the dark hair away from the poor, bruised face
and kiss him. Julian looked exhausted and wan, a man
so deep in sleep that not even the conversation around
him or the sunlight flooding the room was troubling his
slumber." He looks as if he's been in a fight."

Spoken from the Heart - 245

"He has, but I'll let him tell you about that when he

wakes because that's all I know. When he came back last
night, I had my hands full and no time to ask the poor
man questions." She stood, a small figure, but
implacable. "You need a bath, Master Alex. I'll run it
and help you into it. Don't scrub at your forehead and
start your cut bleeding again."

Alex blushed hotly at the very idea. "I thank you, but

there's no need, truly. If you fill the bath, that will be all
the assistance I need."

"I've been wiping your backside for the past week

and washing you down as best I could," she informed
him with a sniff. "Your body is as well known to me as
it is to the man beside you, I've no doubt."

Alex covered his face with his hands. "Oh Lady."
She chuckled, rich and cheerful. "There now. You'll

feel better when you're clean and in fresh linen."

She was correct about that -- and that he'd need help

getting and out of the warm bath. His legs were as shaky
as a newborn foal's and dizziness swept over him so
often he dreaded the thought of doing anything but
climbing back into bed.

"I've put a fresh mattress on Master Julian's bed and

clean sheets," she said. "Got them delivered and Lady
knows what he'll see when he sees the bill, but that
mattress wasn't fit to be used by pigs. Use that bed and
let him have his sleep out in yours, Lady bless him. He's
been worried to death over you."

"Let me see him first," Alex begged. "Please?"
She pursed her mouth, but nodded, and he had the

inexpressible relief of tiptoeing -- in a somewhat
staggering path -- to the bed and pressing the lightest of
kisses on Julian's forehead.

Spoken from the Heart - 246

"I love you," he whispered, and knew that when

Julian woke, he would tell Julian that again, whether it
was welcome or not.

***

"You snore, do you know that?"
Alex smiled without opening his eyes. He wanted to

prolong this moment of delicious anticipation before he
saw Julian smiling back at him. It had been so long! The
time of his illness was still a confused blur, but even
though he didn't remember much between going to the
theater feeling so very unwell and waking next to Julian,
he still felt it had been an age since they'd spoken.

"If I'm asleep when I do it, how could I know?"
He couldn't wait another moment. He had to see

Julian. When he did, though, his happiness faded. Julian
looked so sad, even with a teasing smile curving his
mouth.

"Julian…" He breathed out the name, making it a

question without knowing precisely what it was he
wished to know. "Tell me. No, kiss me first."

The kiss was a light sweep of Julian's lips against his,

too light for Alex's taste. He sat up and flung his arms
around Julian. "I've missed--" He got no further than that.
The shuddering wince Julian gave was enough to make
Alex draw back. "I hurt you?"

"Some of my ribs are cracked. I have skin on my

bruises." Julian grimaced. "That was supposed to be
amusing, but it's too close to the truth."

"You were in a fight, I know, but who was it that did

this?"

Julian shrugged. "It's a long story, Pippin. One that

can wait."

Spoken from the Heart - 247

"It can wait? It most assuredly cannot!" Alex was

wide awake now, hungry again, yes, but the world was
settled and steady around him. The remnants of a
headache clung, but an hour in the fresh air would clear
it away, he was sure. "Tell me -- oh, tell me everything!
The nurse who was caring for me would only say I must
ask you, and truth be told, I was too in awe of her to
press for details."

Julian chuckled, genuine amusement lighting his face.

"Mistress Paterson scares me, too, but she was a rock
this past week. I cannot see how I will ever be able to
repay her. She'll return later. She's gone to fetch a jar of
arnica cream from her house. I believe she intends to
smear it over every inch of me, then wrap me in
bandages. I suspect she'll also bring back some food
now you're able to eat it. I've been a sad disappointment
to her with my lack of appetite."

"Start at the beginning." Alex laid his hand over

Julian's. "I -- I can't recall much, but I had a cold in my
head, yes? We went to the theater on first night, and
I…" He frowned, seeking a memory that slid
maddeningly away from his clutching hands. "I fell," he
said uncertainly. "She told me I fell, but I can't
remember…"

"You fainted," Julian corrected him. "That's why you

don't recall striking your head against the table in the
workroom. You had already lost consciousness."

The explanation was simple and immensely

comforting. Alex sighed with relief and stopped trying
to create a memory out of thin air. "I see. So, I was like
that for days? Really?"

"Really." A shadow passed over Julian's face. "The

physician -- a worthy man, my father's own -- wished to
cut into your head to relieve the internal pressure he felt

Spoken from the Heart - 248

was keeping you in your swoon, but I refused to allow
it."

"Thank the Lady!"
Julian gave him a haunted, guilty look. "Yes? Truly?

I was so sure it was the right thing to do, but I doubted
myself at the same time, and when you sank toward
death…" He shook his head. "I would never have
forgiven myself had you died. Never."

"What saved me?" Alex felt sure he was holding the

hand of the main reason, but he asked anyway.

"You began to bleed. Your nose, and we found out

later, your ears, too. I do not know if that relieved the
pressure the physician feared or if it was something else
entirely, but after that, though you were weak, you
seemed to know me. You slept, a natural, healing sleep,
and I--"

"Went out to celebrate and found a fight as well as a

bottle or two of wine?" Alex teased, with an arch smile.
"There's no shame in that, though I wish I was able to
embrace you properly."

"That isn't what happened." Julian closed his eyes for

a moment, as if he was blocking out something too
terrible to see, but Alex suspected that eyes open or shut,
Julian couldn't escape viewing it. "You were close to
dying last night. I could not leave you. I had told
Sampton my understudy would need to go on for me. He
wasn't happy. The duke and his daughter were to be
there, you see? He agreed, though grudgingly, and I
hurried back to you. Then word came late, too late, that
Patrick had lost his voice. As his understudy, I was
needed to play his role. The king."

"You've wished for that so fervently. Not wished ill

on Patrick, but to be given your chance to show them--"
Alex bit his lip, unsure of what Julian's decision had

Spoken from the Heart - 249

been. Without in the least accepting it, he understood
just how important it was that an understudy stepped
forward in time of need. Julian had filled his head with
stories beating out the same tune. "You -- you went?"

You left me dying?
Julian jerked as if startled. "What? No! I told the

messenger -- that darkbound imp, Tom -- that I would
not, I could not leave you."

"Oh!" Alex was breathless with the shock of pleasure

Julian's words brought. Following swiftly came outrage.
"And, what, men were sent to beat you for that? I cannot
believe it!"

Julian covered his eyes with his hand. "Right then,

the crisis occurred. You recovered. You were sleeping."
His voice was stifled, constrained. "The nurse assured
me you would sleep for hours, as you did. I cleaned off
your blood -- I was soaked in it, gory beyond belief --
and I got myself to the theater--" His head fell into his
hands. "It was dark. The theater was dark. The duke had
left so full of anger he'd ordered it to stay closed for a
full month, Alex, a month! I went inside; I was
surrounded, jeered at. All blamed me, and one took it
upon himself to express their displeasure with his fists
and feet." Shame darkened Julian's voice, souring the
rich tones. "I was weakened by lack of sleep and food,
sick with worry. I fell and he kicked me, my bones
cracking with every meeting with his boot. Duncan
saved me, but I have no friends there now. I am outcast."

He stopped talking, a bleak finality to his last words

that chilled Alex to the point of shivering. His skill at
carving, at working with wood, was important to him,
and he enjoyed it, but it didn't define him the way that
acting shaped Julian's life. Julian was an actor. Alex
couldn't imagine him doing anything else. There were

Spoken from the Heart - 250

other theaters, but the Pinnacle had been home, the
people there Julian's family.

"You lost all that because of me?" He could barely

force the words out. "You must hate me more than
anyone who walks the Realm. I would ask you to
forgive me, but I don't see how you could."

"What?" Julian raised his head, bewilderment plain

on his face. "Hate you? How could I do that? Alex, it's
because I love you that I couldn't leave you. The
decision was mine alone."

"You don't love me." Julian had been most clear on

that point in the past. "You felt sorry for me, perhaps."

"I love you," Julian said. "Oh, trust me, Pippin, as I

stood by your bed -- our bed -- and watched you fade,
there was no room for doubt on that score. I thought
myself fond of you, considered what we had in bed to be
a pleasant diversion for us both, but I was hiding from
the truth. I wasn't a coward when I lay and let myself be
kicked as penance, but I was when I refused to admit my
heart was yours from the moment we met. If there's any
forgiveness needed, it's for my slowness that I ask it."

Alex shook his head, reaching out blindly, tears

blurring his vision, and cupped Julian's face as gently as
he could. "You give me so much, always. If forgiveness
is something you want, something I can give you, why
then it's yours, but I see nothing to forgive."

The kiss he got then was no brush of lips. It had to

have pained Julian to kiss him so deeply, their bodies
locked together as they sat on the bed, but Alex didn't
try to end the kiss out of consideration. They needed this
kiss and more, but in that moment, the kiss was enough.
Julian's mouth moved against his, all sweet, fiery
possession, claiming him as surely as Alex had set his
mark on Julian without knowing how.

Spoken from the Heart - 251

"Darkness take these cracked ribs," Julian muttered.

"I want to lie with you. Show you what it means that
we're together."

"Yes," Alex said, on a groan of pure longing. "I

cannot wait. I want you inside me, Julian."

He'd half-feared that surrender before, unsure of

Julian as he'd been, and his body had echoed that fear,
tightening when it should have opened up, but that
would not happen again, he was sure of it. He ached to
feel the hard, hot thickness that had so often filled his
mouth deep inside him, to hear the soft sounds of
pleasure spill from Julian's mouth as they fucked.

"It will be a few days yet. I would like you to

remember it for a reason other than me swooning from
the agony of my cracked ribs."

Julian smiled as he said it, but judging by the

intensity in Julian's eyes as he stared at Alex, it seemed
the wait would be as endless for him as for Alex.

"Julian -- the theater…what will you do?"
Julian stared at Alex in silence, his expression

studiously blank, all passion wiped clean, before giving
as eloquent a shrug as his ribs would presumably allow.
"What is there to do, my sweet? I saw what they thought
of me. They stood and watched Richard kick me, and I
believe they'd have stood there until I died if Duncan
hadn't saved me." The bored, flat delivery cracked. "I
deserved it, I did -- but of all of them, only him? Only
Duncan?"

The anguish in his voice sliced through Alex, ripping

him open. He snarled, his blood hot to fight now. "I will
go there and tear the place down, brick by brick. I will
find Richard and repay every bruise on your body with
interest. They're monsters, and I cannot believe I worked
with them and called them friends."

Spoken from the Heart - 252

With nothing and no one to hit out at, he slammed his

fist into the bed. "Drown them in shit and send them to
the dark!"

Julian blinked at him, his mouth hanging open. "Why,

Pippin, I didn't know you could sound quite so
bloodthirsty."

"They hurt you," Alex said, through his teeth. "They

were upset, I see that, and a month without pay is hard
on anyone, but they had no right to settle the blame
solely on you. What of Patrick? Was he really so
incapable? And the duke! No one could explain the
situation to him with tact and imagination, leaving him
sympathetic and ready to return the next week maybe,
for the perfect performance he deserved?"

Julian whistled, long and low. "By the Lady, when

you set it out like that…"

"You have been made a scapegoat. Perhaps too much

has been said and done for you to return to the Pinnacle,
but this is enough to ensure you're never taken on at any
theater. It's so unfair!"

"It is, but why? What motive could anyone have to

treat me so? Patrick and I are better friends now, and
Master Sampton and I always respected each other. Not
friends, perhaps, but he is no enemy of mine." Julian
rubbed his face with his hands. "I have no enemies.
Marmaduke was, in my eyes at least, but thanks to you,
that enmity is at an end."

"You don't need to have an enemy for a set of

disappointed, guilty people to choose you as the perfect
person to blame," Alex pointed out. "If you'd stayed
home, it would probably have been Patrick, or the duke
himself, if they dared."

He'd seen it happen at home when a barn had burned

down. The man blamed had been the one who'd first

Spoken from the Heart - 253

discovered the blaze and chosen to leave the barn
burning in favor of rounding up help to quench the
flames, not the person who'd built a bonfire too close to
one wall of the barn, then wandered off, leaving the
bonfire unattended.

That the discoverer of the fire could hardly have

managed to put it out unaided was swept aside. The man
had been attacked, by words and fists, and though he'd
escaped an official sentence of exile, he'd chosen to
leave the Westerlings.

Julian looked a trifle disappointed. Alex supposed a

mysterious enemy was more exciting and dramatic than
just being the easiest person to attack.

"Perhaps," he said stiffly, then sighed and smiled.
"You're so practical, love. I'm steeped in a hundred plots
and I forget that life isn't so neatly planned, but more a
muddle of mishaps and misunderstandings. Well,
whatever lay behind it all, my time at the Pinnacle is
over."

"As is mine, though I suppose that decision has

already been made for me."

"It's possible your job's still there for you, but…"
"You know I could never return there." Alex brought

Julian's hand up to kiss it. "Never. I'd sooner starve."

"Now who's letting drama overcome commonsense?"

Julian moved closer and kissed him. "Though I confess,
every time you say something like that, it warms me
through and through."

"I'll spend the rest of the day cursing them if it makes

you happy."

Julian grinned. "It would, but I think we'd best put it

behind us and look to the future. With you beside me, I
know it will be as bright as the Lady herself."

Spoken from the Heart - 254

Alex approved of the sentiment and rewarded it with

another kiss, but privately doubted that Julian would
hold to his purpose. The loss of his job and his
reputation, on the heels of what sounded to have been a
week full of worry and strain, the attack he'd endured --
none of that could be easily forgotten. It would be
difficult for the most pragmatic and unemotional of men,
and Julian was far from being such a man.

Best to let him talk it out of his system for a few days

and let his sorely wounded feelings recover along with
his bruised body.

Spoken from the Heart - 255

Chapter Twenty

"I cannot believe it!" Marmaduke Stellforth said, for

perhaps the third time in as many minutes. The lawyer
was as agitated as Julian had ever seen him, his
customary calm shattered. "Unconscionable behavior!
Tell me you plan to report this ruffian to the guards."

Julian shook his head as he refilled Marmaduke's

sherry glass. "Sir, you know enough of the code of the
theater to realize what I did would be considered by far
the greater sin."

"But you are the son of a gentleman! Richard

Tennant is nothing, a jumped-up commoner. His every
word proclaims him beneath you."

Alex, curled up in the window seat of the formal

parlor and looking out at the street, turned his head at
that. His face was still thinner than Julian would have
liked, but his hair was lustrous and bright again, his eyes
clear. With the resilience of youth, he was recovering
rapidly." One law for all means that his origin doesn't
matter, only his actions. I've no forgiveness in me for
what he did, but--"

"Yes, yes," Marmaduke said testily. "Most admirable,

I'm sure. Very well, let us set aside his temerity in
assaulting his betters and this code you set so high a
store in and deal with the facts. You're black and blue,
and he put those bruises on you."

Julian sighed and sipped at his sherry, the rich, dark

amber liquid warming his throat. When Marmaduke had
arrived, fresh from a visit to meet his newest grandchild,
he'd been a welcome sight. Two days of being cooped
up indoors, unable to move without pain, with Alex
more often than not asleep as he built up his strength,
had left Julian bored to tears. He was beginning to wish

Spoken from the Heart - 256

he'd never shared the details of the tumultuous week, but
how could he not? His face was swollen, and Alex was
markedly thinner…and the Pinnacle going dark was the
talk of the city.

"I care nothing for that. I'm more concerned with the

plight of the Pinnacle. I can never work there again, but
it doesn't mean I wish to see its doors closed."

"You owe them nothing."
"I told him that," Alex said. "Save your breath, sir;

you'll not move him. He feels responsible for the
theater's plight, and though I don't think he has anything
to blame himself for, I do wish the duke had not been
so…well, so hasty to hand down his punishment. It
seems excessive."

"It does, I agree, but he has his dignity to uphold. For

him to have expressed a wish to see a play and to arrive
to find all in chaos, well, it's an insult."

"Blood of the Lady, I'd like to show him what a true

insult is," Julian muttered.

"A most unwise statement that I trust you'll not repeat

when less friendly ears than ours are listening,"
Marmaduke said, reproof clear in his voice.

"Oh, I'll be discretion itself in public," Julian said,

with another sigh.

Marmaduke tapped his lips with his finger, a habit

Julian recalled well. "If it means so much to you that the
sentence be rescinded--"

"It means everything!"
"Today is the ducal audience with the people. It was

to have been yesterday, but a delegation from Delcinte
arrived and that took precedence."

"The audience? There'll be hundreds there and only a

few are seen." Truthfully, Julian couldn't picture himself
rubbing shoulders with every citizen with a grievance.

Spoken from the Heart - 257

The audience was a tradition of decades, but it was a sop
to the people more than anything. The duke attended it
for an hour or so until he got bored, and those who'd
been waiting all day were sent home with nothing but
aching feet.

"Oh, I don't propose you wait in line." Marmaduke

dismissed that notion with a flick of his hand. "You'll
enter the castle with me and be seen privately."

"'One law'." Alex gave a derisive hoot of laughter.

"Lady, the more I see of this city, the more I miss the
Westerlings."

Marmaduke raised his eyebrows, unseen by Alex,

and sniffed. "They have no politics there, no intrigue?
How very dull."

Julian smothered a grin. "If you think I can appeal to

him, I'll gladly go, but if I end up in prison, I trust you'll
see to my release before my hair turns gray?"

"That," Marmaduke said primly, "will not be a

problem, I assure you."

"Then let me change into my best jerkin and breeches

and we'll be off."

"You're going to do this?" Alex abandoned his seat

and came to Julian, grabbing his arms tightly enough to
make Julian wince. "You might not come back! And
you're in no state to make the journey. Walking is out of
the question, and the jouncing of a coach will leave you
in agonies of pain."

"You paint a gloomy picture, my boy. He'll be taken

care of, I assure you."

"I will go with you then." Alex was pale as a cloud,

his lips trembling, but there was no doubt that he meant
it. A rush of tenderness washed over Julian.

"Pippin, my love, you're in no state yourself to leave

the house, and I do not think your testimony is needed,

Spoken from the Heart - 258

though your offer of support is appreciated." Heedless of
Marmaduke's watchful gaze, Julian kissed Alex's lips
and stilled their quiver. "You are so valiant," he said
softly, "but this battle I will fight alone."

***

Julian's ribs ached, but he held his deep bow until a

gruff grunt permitted him to straighten.

"So you're the actor who thinks a sniffle is more

important than entertaining your duke, hey?"

Julian executed a perfect double-take. "Your Grace, a

sniffle? No! I was in perfect health, I assure you, but if I
had been about to meet the Lady, I would have done it
from the stage, not my bed."

"Don't understand it then," the Duke said flatly.

"Fellow told me you were sick. Piffle, I said. The man's
no milksop."

"I believe there may be some slight confusion,"

Marmaduke said smoothly. "The actor who was to have
played the part of the king was indeed struck down, his
voice lost. Master Melville here was his understudy. He
was devastated beyond words when he was told of the
illness of his fellow actor and would, I am certain, on
any other night have moved the Lady from her path to
get to the theater."

"Fine words, but he wasn't there, was he? M'daughter

was in tears. Not but what she cries over everything
from a torn dress to a sad song, but still. Don't like to see
her unhappy."

"A solicitude that does you credit, my Grace, but I

feel sure, knowing Lady Helena's kind heart, she would
be moved by the reason Master Melville was absent. His
dear friend, injured at the theater in an untimely fall, lay

Spoken from the Heart - 259

close to death. He had but an hour, if that, left to live,
and Julian, his heart close to breaking, knowing what the
consequences would be, that he would lose everything,
chose love over aught else and stayed with his friend."

Julian stayed silent, though he itched to speak.

Marmaduke was laying it on a good deal too thick…

"Touching tale." The duke stifled a yawn, then

gestured at Julian. "So, did he die?"

The brusque question, devoid of any sympathy, set

Julian's teeth on edge, but he kept a meaningless, polite
smile on his face. "The crisis came, and by the blessing
of the Lady, he survived. His physician declared it a
miracle. As soon as I was assured his recovery was no
false alarm, I hastened to the theater, only moments
late." His voice shook, mostly because he wanted it to.
"Conceive of my dismay, your Grace! I had
disappointed you and the Lady Helena, whose approval
of one of my performances is my most cherished
memory. All my joy at my friend's delivery from the
shadow was lost in a moment."

"Hmm."
Julian saw a flutter of rose-pink in the open doorway

behind the throne and heard a small, stifled sob.
Encouraged by what he guessed was a more sympathetic
audience, he infused his voice with a tender agony.

"I rushed backstage only to find -- to find--" He

covered his eyes with his hand. "Forgive me. The
memory is as painful as my ribs."

"Hey, what? Your ribs? What's amiss with them?"
"On seeing the man they blamed for their misfortune

in displeasing you, the actors ranged themselves against
Master Melville--"

"They had cause," Julian broke in. "What I did was

unforgivable, I know. I do not make light of it, but I do

Spoken from the Heart - 260

wish, your Grace, that the penalty fall upon my
shoulders alone."

Marmaduke groaned as if Julian's precipitate demand

pained him, but Julian had had enough of the shilly-
shallying.

"I was beaten, sir, kicked until I thought the Lady had

decided the price for my friend's life was my own -- and
I would have paid it gladly."

The duke stood and walked down the two shallow

steps that raised his throne above the floor and over to
Julian. "Show me."

The duke was a full six inches shorter than Julian,

with a paunch from too much eating and a reddish tinge
to his nose from too much wine, but there was no
doubting his power. Julian unfastened his jerkin and
drew up his shirt.

"Humph." The ducal finger poked a particularly

tender spot and Julian drew in a sharp breath, sweat
breaking out on his forehead. "I've had worse falling off
my horse out hunting, but I suppose you don't care about
that."

Julian was formulating a tactful reply when the rose-

pink flutter became a rustle of silk as the Lady Helena
made her entrance. "Father! Oh, poor Master Melville!
You must not punish him, Father, not now, when we
know why he could not perform."

Julian hastily dropped his shirt and fumbled to fasten

his jerkin. He had no wish to be accused of flaunting his
bare chest at an innocent young lady. He bowed low and,
when he straightened, gave her a look of melting
gratitude.

"That's not what you said when you'd dressed up in

your newest finery only to get back into the carriage and
drive home again."

Spoken from the Heart - 261

She pouted. "I was disappointed, but I did not know

why Master Melville had failed me -- us. The whole city
is talking about it and saying it's the most romantic of
tales."

The duke cast up his eyes. "Romantic? Lady save

me!" He turned to Marmaduke. "You vouch for this man
and his…tale?"

Marmaduke gave the impression of stiffening, all

outraged dignity, without actually altering his calmly
respectful expression. "I've known him since birth and
he's always had a reputation for being quite disastrously
truthful. I've brought the physician with me if your
Grace wishes to question him."

"What? No. I have better things to do with my time

than talk to people -- or to sit watching plays. Waste of
time, nothing but a waste of time."

Julian bowed again, despair cold and dark as night

filling him. It was of no use. The duke would not relent
and his name would be forever stained.

A tiny foot clad in pink stamped hard. "Father! You

shall not say that!"

"I'll say what I like, miss!" the duke roared. "Why,

you'll be telling me next how to handle the tax on tea or
wishing me to fill the holds of every ship with pretty
folderols for you and your empty-headed friends."

Lady Helena's voice wobbled most artistically. "I ask

for nothing but your mercy, sir. Not for me, but for the
people of the theater and this poor man."

"He's got a few cracked ribs. I've hunted all day with

mine in a similar state, aye, and brought down a stag
with antlers bigger than -- never mind. I've told that
story often enough even I'm bored of it."

"I don't care about my ribs, your Grace," Julian said,

all the emotion in his voice genuine. "I care about the

Spoken from the Heart - 262

Pinnacle. I'll never work in a theater again after this, and
I accept that punishment, but the people there have
families, and a month with no wages will strike them
hard. For a theater to go dark is shameful, your Grace.
The shame will never be washed clean from my name,
but if the theater could reopen now, people will soon
forget the scandal. It's been two days, your Grace. Please.
I beg you, in your infinite mercy, lift the darkness and
bring the light."

He found himself on his knees, one hand extended

imploringly, tears in his eyes that he kept from falling. It
was no artifice, though he could admire the stagecraft of
it. He was an actor to the bone and marrow of him.
Nothing and no one could take that away.

"Oh, get up," the duke said irritably. "I feel as if I'm

on stage with you. Very well, but mind! No
speechifying about how grateful you are!"

Julian rose to his feet and bowed his head. "This city

is fortunate in its ruler, and I am in your debt, your
Grace."

He gave Lady Helena a speaking glance of gratitude,

since he'd been forbidden to speak his thanks, and kissed
the hand she held out to him as fervently as seemed safe.
It smelled deliciously of roses and was as smooth as the
silk she wore.

"So you won't be returning to the theater?" the duke

asked, a sharp glace accompanying the words.

Julian shook his head. "I'm outcast," he said simply.

"The city holds no place for me as an actor."

"I could make them take you back as a condition of

lifting the ban."

Julian swallowed. "I -- that is kind, but to be there on

sufferance, despised and ignored? I would die a little
every day. They were my family."

Spoken from the Heart - 263

"Families squabble from time to time," Lady Helena

said, her voice kind, but with a crispness to it that lent
her an air of gravity. She took her father's hand and
squeezed it lovingly. "That changes nothing. They were
upset, they were hurt you chose your lover over them,
but they will forgive you." She nodded briskly, as if that
was the matter settled, and Julian, helpless in the face of
such encompassing certainty, could only bow again.

"I won't make them take you back," the duke said,

"but I'll make it so that if they don't, they'll look the
villain, not you, hey?" There was a shrewd glint in his
eyes. "I'll send two guards with you to break the seal on
the door. Make sure there's a crowd there, make sure
everyone knows it's your silver tongue that persuaded
me to change my mind." He shrugged. "Make us both
look good."

"Your Grace is most wise and all that is generous."

Julian started to bow and was halted by an impatient
gesture from the duke.

"You're white as frost, lad. Save the bows for when

you're on stage next. Now be gone. I've had enough of
romance for one day. The guards will meet you at the
gate." He inclined his head to Marmaduke and turned his
head to address his daughter.

The audience was over.

Spoken from the Heart - 264

Chapter Twenty-One

The ducal seal across the huge doors of the Pinnacle

was a magnificently brutal gesture. Julian gazed at the
red wax, gaudy and thick, imprinted with the duke's
emblem, and felt the power behind it. The duke had
taken away his life, and now he was giving part of it
back, at least. It was up to Julian to decide how much he
wanted to seize and reclaim…

Could he ever work here again? Not with Richard

Tennant, that was a sure and certain fact. The man was a
bully, violent and uncontrolled.

Julian had still not decided what he would do when

the moment came, but the ability to improvise was part
of his repertoire and he ceased to fret. He would enjoy
the honey-sweetness of this victory to the full.

A small crowd gathered, drawn by the scent of drama,

and one of the two guards, a tall, burly man with hair so
fair it looked like gilt, hammered on the side door with
his fist, calling out, "All inside, step out into the street!
See justice done, by order of the Duke of Sorrent."

The thud of his fist was a measured beat, and he

repeated his speech three times before stepping back.
The side door opened, and Master Sampton, with
Mistress Sampton at his heels, came out, followed by a
dozen or more theater folk. The guard ignored the
questions hurled at him by a red-faced Sampton and led
the small group around to the main door.

Sampton caught sight of Julian at once and puffed out

his chest, his ruddy face darkening still further. "You!
What more evil do you plan to inflict on me and the
Pinnacle? Begone before I set about you myself, you
traitorous ingrate!"

Spoken from the Heart - 265

Mistress Sampton frowned, opening her mouth as if

to speak, but she closed it again when the guards moved
to flank Julian, their intent to protect him plain.

"It has never been my wish to do you or the Pinnacle

harm," Julian replied, pitching his voice to be clear and
carrying. "In proof of that, I went to the duke as soon as
my injuries -- received at the hands of one of your actors,
Master Sampton, while you stood watching -- allowed
me to leave my bed."

"Went to tell tales, did you?"
Mistress Sampton's lips were a thin line of

displeasure now. Julian tried to catch her eye, but she
was staring at the ground, deep in thought.

"I went to beg that the penalty be lifted from the

Pinnacle and laid on my shoulders. I begged on my
knees for the duke to show mercy, and I received it."
Julian swept his hand out in a gesture that made his ribs
twinge unmercifully and addressed not the crowd of
onlookers -- they were just his audience -- but his fellow
theater folk. "The duke and his daughter, the Lady
Helena, as kind and tender-hearted as she is beautiful,
were moved by my plight and the choice fate forced me
to make. Had they been told of it on the night, all this
might have been averted, but it seems no one told the
duke why I was unable to step into the role Master
Rathes left vacant."

"The messenger we sent to you did not share the full

details with us," Mistress Sampton said, speaking for the
first time, her voice carrying as clearly as Julian's. "That
night, many oversights and mistakes were made, Master
Melville. Rest assured that I have been getting to the
bottom of each and every one of them." She cast her
husband a scathing glance when he tried to speak. "For
instance, Master Tennant is no longer a member of the

Spoken from the Heart - 266

company, and my grandson is finding it difficult to sit
and will do so for some days."

Julian tried and failed to hold back his grin, but he

smothered it swiftly. "You are a formidable lady,
Mistress Sampton. I've always held you in the highest
regard."

She inclined her head, then glanced at the guards.

"Why are you here?"

The fair-haired guard drew his dagger from its sheath

at his waist and stepped forward. "To do this, Citizen."

Two paces took him to the doors; one slash

downward broke the seal. "By order of the Duke of
Sorrent, moved by the eloquence of one Master Julian
Melville, the darkness is lifted on the Pinnacle Theater
and all may freely pass within. Hail the Duke!"

A cheer, ragged at first, but growing in strength,

answered the guard, who smiled thinly and re-sheathed
his dagger after wiping it on his breeches to clear it of
the clinging fragments of wax.

"Will you be needing us further?" the second guard

asked.

Julian turned to him. "Why no, I think not. My thanks

for your support."

The guard shrugged. "Just doing our job." He peered

at Julian's face. "All the way over here, I was thinking I
knew you."

"I'm an actor." Julian felt a gathering unease. Now

that the guard mentioned it, Julian was conscious of a
matching feeling of familiarity. "You may have seen me
on stage."

"Never go to the plays. No, but I do know you." He

snapped his fingers, smiling broadly. "I have it! You're
the one who rescued that country boy from the stocks."

Spoken from the Heart - 267

The Lady gave me one perfect moment and now she

plunges me into despair yet again.

"Yes," Julian said, and didn't trouble to lower his

voice because the noise of the crowd was providing
ample privacy. "I did. I fell in love with him and he's at
the root of all of this, so I think the duke would prefer
you to forget we ever met, if you take my meaning."

Julian got a level stare, then a wink. "I can be discreet

if it serves the duke."

"I swear by the Lady that it would." Julian felt in his

pouch and drew out some silver. "Perhaps you could
toast him later on?"

The coins disappeared as swiftly as dew on grass.

The guard beckoned to his friend, and they left a
moment later, the crowd parting for them.

"Master Melville."
He turned and found himself face to face with the

Samptons.

"We need to talk with you," Mistress Sampton said.
"I'm willing to do that," Julian said politely, but

without excessive eagerness. He had not decided yet
where his future lay, though he felt sure that thanks to
the duke, the impossible had become less so and his
place in the company had not been lost for good.

Once inside Sampton's crowded office, the familiarity

of his surroundings brought Julian a measure of
relaxation. He'd been here so many times, arguing with
Sampton over a role or gossiping in a leisurely fashion.
He settled into a chair and gave the couple behind the
desk an expectant look, his eyebrows raised slightly.

"What happened here was regrettable," Mistress

Sampton said, standing beside her husband, who was
sitting in his chair, his eyes narrowed. She placed her

Spoken from the Heart - 268

hand on Sampton's shoulder. "You think that you were
singled out for blame and so you were."

"I deserved it, some of it, at least."
Sampton grunted, a flicker of approval showing

"True enough. You did. You do."

"But the blame lay on other shoulders, too," Mistress

Sampton continued, "and today you've shown yourself a
true friend to the Pinnacle and redeemed yourself in my
eyes, at least."

Julian inclined his head. "I thank you," he said, the

barest hint of irony showing through. "When I can
breathe without pain, I'll feel more grateful still, I'm
sure."

"That was unfortunate."
"Unfortunate, regrettable -- at the time, those

watching thought it justice and approved
wholeheartedly!" Julian's temper rose with his voice.
"They were people I've known and worked with for
years, darkness take them!"

He was on his feet now, trembling with the force of

his emotion. "Only Duncan helped me. Only him."

"More wished to, but lacked his courage." Sampton's

expression softened somewhat. "Julian, my boy, I wish
you had not arrived when you did, but there's no
changing it. Tennant's got his marching orders,
confound his impudence--"

"What did he do?" Julian asked, his curiosity piqued.
"He told me since he'd seen you off so handily, he

would be taking your dressing room and your roles."
Sampton scowled. "Told me, not asked. Not but what the
answer would have been the same had he groveled. It
seems he was not motivated by an understandable
outrage, but ambition. And the family he was so
concerned about are no longer his problem."

Spoken from the Heart - 269

"Mistress Tennant found him unfaithful and

petitioned for a separation. She and her children are
living over in Dennin now," Mistress Sampton explained
with a sniff. "He failed to share that information with
us."

"You're a lot of things, Melville, including arrogant

and cocky, but you're no liar and you ask openly for
what you want without whining." Sampton jerked up his
chin. "So, will you return to the Pinnacle?"

As soon as the question was asked, there was only

one reply he could give.

Spoken from the Heart - 270

Chapter Twenty-Two

"You said you'd return?" Alex asked incredulously.

Surely he'd misheard. "Julian, you told me--"

"I know, I know, sweetheart, but they were so

insistent that I was needed, so very apologetic…It's only
until Silence Falls ends its run. They cannot recast me
easily, and if I was to walk away, I would hate myself.
Once the play ends, why, I will reconsider my future."

Alex drew in a sharp, annoyed breath, completely

unconvinced by Julian's final words. The play would
end, a role in the next one would be offered, and Julian
would snap at it as readily as a fish took a fly. All the
support he'd given Julian, all those wasted words of
sympathy and outrage only for Julian to turn back to lick
the hand that'd struck him. "I see."

"Alex. Pippin." Julian joined Alex on the bed, his

legs bare under the loose shirt he wore. Julian had been
quiet undressing, but Alex had dozed off too much
during the day to be deeply asleep and the muted thud of
Julian's breeches hitting the floor had brought him out of
his dreams. "Be happy for me? I had thought all was lost,
and it is not. You are with me still, and the theater has
opened its doors once more. The Lady shines on us."

He gave Alex a cajoling smile, but Alex was in no

mood to be cozened into a good temper. He'd spent the
afternoon fretting over Julian's long absence and finally
taken himself to bed in what even he knew to be a sulk.
It was not overly late, but Julian had most certainly been
drinking, and his eyes were hazy, though his diction was
clear.

"She shines on you, but I am still without a job." That

stung. He'd been good at his work, and it was through no
fault of his own he'd been absent this past week.

Spoken from the Heart - 271

Julian shook his head and took Alex's hand between

his. "No, that is the best part. You are to return with me.
Sampton admitted no blame attached to you, and I made
it a condition of my return in any case. Both of us, or
neither of us. After the play ends, well, who knows
where I will go, but your job is safe for as long as you
want it."

"Oh!" The wind taken from his sails, Alex ducked his

head, guiltily aware he'd thought himself forgotten by
Julian as his lover negotiated his triumphant return.
"Thank you."

"You don't need to thank me." Julian's hand was

warm against Alex's chin, tilting his head up so Julian
could kiss him. "But if you really feel that you wish to, I
have several ideas…"

"You're still bruised," Alex protested weakly, the kiss

and the hopeful look in Julian's eyes making his prick
harden. He was tired, but the bone-deep exhaustion had
left him once he'd been able to eat properly, and he was
well on the road to recovery. His body was reminding
him that a man had other hungers that needed satisfying,
and he was of a mind to listen.

"Then you'll have to be very gentle with me." There

was a sensuous purr to the words that made Alex shiver
with longing. "Do you know how long it's been since
I've touched you?" Julian slid his hand under the sheet
and caressed the supple, stiffening length of Alex's prick.
"So you're hard for me already?"

"Of course I am." Alex looked pointedly down at

Julian's lap. "Your shirt isn't long enough to cover your
backside, and I've had quite the view as you've been
talking."

The rounded dangle of Julian's balls made Alex want

to reach out and play with them, just to feel their weight

Spoken from the Heart - 272

against his palm as they tightened, but he dreaded the
moment when Julian would take his shirt off, revealing
the heavy bruising marring his skin. One look at the
dark purple and black blotches, the color of storm clouds,
and Alex's anger would rise, overwhelming his passion.
He ached for Julian in more ways than one, hating that
the man he loved was in pain.

Julian unbuttoned his shirt and paused, his gaze

searching Alex's face. "When you look at me, you wince.
Am I so unattractive now?"

"No!" Alex kicked free of the sheets and knelt on the

bed, his hands resting on Julian's shoulders. "You could
never be that. They're bruises, not scars, and they're
fading daily. Even if they were scars, I wouldn't care. It's
just that every time I see them, I picture you on the floor,
helpless, hurting, and I -- it makes me so angry."

"I don't want you to be angry when we're making

love." Julian bit his lip, then fastened his shirt. "I'll leave
it on."

"You most certainly will not."
A short, brief tussle followed, playful more than

serious, and when it was over, Alex was the victor, the
shirt off Julian's back, less a button, and both of them
naked, kneeling facing each other.

"Look at them, then," Julian encouraged him. "Look

your fill, then let us move past the anger to more
pleasant emotions."

Alex swallowed back an instinctive protest and

nodded. Fear and anger were born of ignorance. He'd
been taught that by his parents and found it to be true.

With his eyes and the tips of his fingers, he explored

the bruises, noting where they lay and where the skin
was broken as well as darkened. Julian was silent, only
the rapid rise and fall of his chest betraying him. Alex

Spoken from the Heart - 273

curled around Julian like a cat and kissed where he had
touched, whisper-kisses, snowflake light, on the marked
skin, reclaiming it as his.

"You're beautiful," he murmured. "So strong, your

skin so smooth. I cannot stop touching you. I would kiss
you all over if you'd be patient enough to allow it, every
inch until I knew you, every hair, every freckle, every
place that made your breath catch in your throat." He put
his lips against the beat of Julian's heart and smiled. "I
can feel it here, but it beats at your throat…your
wrists…" He kissed each pulse, slow, hot kisses, using
his tongue to lick Julian's skin until it was clean and bare.
"And here." He slid to his stomach and pushed Julian's
knees apart so he could find the place, high on Julian's
thigh, where the blood surged strong and steady.

Julian broke his silence. "There?"
"And here." Alex moved to the side, making the kiss

hard enough that Julian cried out softly, without moving
away. He bit and sucked at the soft, vulnerable flesh, his
intent to mark, not cut the skin. When he'd finished,
there was a new bruise forming on Julian's body.

Alex ran his finger over spit-wet, reddened skin and

smiled. "I like that bruise."

"You imp," Julian said softly. He slid his fingers

through Alex's hair and guided him to his prick. "More
gentle with this, please."

Alex grinned and eased Julian back against the

pillows. "I'll take the greatest of care with it, I promise."

He was true to his word, not permitting Julian to

thrust up into his mouth, but removing the need by
bobbing his head in slow, long dips and rises, the hard
column of Julian's prick hot and sweet against his
tongue. He drew gasps and murmurs of pleasure and

Spoken from the Heart - 274

delight from Julian, then finally an effusion, warm and
thick, to be swallowed by him with equal satisfaction.

Alex lay with his head pillowed on Julian's thigh,

drowsily content as Julian played with his hair. His prick
was full, but he was content to do no more than caress it
idly, the movement of his fingers over it a familiar one.

"Show me," Julian said, his voice spiced with arousal.

"I want to see you pleasure yourself, Alex. Spill on me
and mark my skin a kinder way."

Alex shrugged, unembarrassed, and turned so Julian

could have a better view. It was his habit to tease
himself, extending the delicious sensations for as long as
possible -- sometimes at the cost of sleep -- but the
knowledge Julian was watching spurred him on. Before
long, his hand was working his cock with a quick,
mercilessly tight stroke, his fingers clamped around the
swell of his cock's head as he liked it. The head was
streaked with clear fluid as his balls prepared to yield up
their load, and Julian reached down to dab at it with his
middle finger, making Alex groan deeply.

"Touch me," he begged. "Or kiss me. I need you,

Julian. In this, as everything, I need you, love."

"I'm here, Pippin." Julian's hand closed over Alex's,

the loving touch all that was needed.

Alex closed his eyes, his breath a gasp as he

shuddered through a climax the sweeter for being shared.

Most things in life were.

Spoken from the Heart - 275

Chapter Twenty-Three

"I would have preferred this discussion to be private."

Marmaduke glanced over his spectacles at Alex and
gave him a perfunctory smile. "Not that it isn't always
good to see you, m'boy, especially now you've got the
color back in your cheeks."

"We have half a dozen errands to run and only a few

hours in which to do that," Julian said, with an impatient
wave. "I brought Alex with me to save time. There's
nothing he doesn't know of the situation between you,
my father, and I, so there's no need to be discreet."

"I could wait outside," Alex offered, too well brought

up to remain where he wasn't wanted. He stood, only too
eager to escape the small, musty room. Outside, autumn
had turned sultry air crisp and painted the trees in bright
shades, the leaves like small flames, scarlet, orange, and
yellow, flickering in the wind. He was restless,
impatient with himself for being so, and trying hard not
to take out his uncertain mood on Julian.

In bed, with Julian's mouth on his, their bodies joined,

his energy was channeled into a different path. He could
not get enough of Julian's lovemaking, even when he
was exhausted, craving the deft, knowing caresses, the
sense of rightness that always accompanied his finish.
Julian never refused him, though there was sometimes a
quizzical glint in his eyes as he stripped down and slid
between the sheets, reaching for Alex to draw him close.

Julian's hand shot out and grabbed his wrist. "Sit. I

have no secrets from you, my dear."

"No, but... " Alex bit his lip, recognizing the stubborn

set of Julian's jaw, and capitulated, settling back down
into a chair that, like the rest of Stellforth's office, was
old, of excellent quality, and dusty. "Oh, very well."

Spoken from the Heart - 276

Marmaduke cleared his throat and fussed with a sheaf

of papers he held, straightening them with great
precision, then tossing them aside, so they lay like a fan
over the dark wood of his desk. "When your father died,
you received the minimum that the law allowed."

Julian frowned. "Yes." The word was clipped off,

cool. "You persuaded him that was I to inherit; I would
waste my inheritance within the year, frittering it away."

"Was I wrong?" Marmaduke inquired.
"I think it might have taken me a little more than a

year," Julian mused, tapping his finger thoughtfully
against his lips. "Possibly two?"

Marmaduke's thin cheeks flushed. "Be serious! How

much money do you have saved now?"

"'Saved'?" Julian said the word as if it was new to

him. "Why, nothing. But I owe nothing. My affairs
balance perfectly."

Marmaduke sniffed. "I'll wager the young man beside

you would have a different answer."

Julian turned his head, concern replacing flippancy.

"Pippin? You owe money? How much? Why did you
not tell me?"

Alex gave him an exasperated look. "I don't! I buy

books, yes, but apart from that… I'm not trying to keep
up with the latest fashions and bewailing the fact my
doublet is jade green when the latest shade is sea-green."

"I wasn't bewailing anything! I merely pointed out

there was a subtle difference between the two and said I
thought sea-green went better with my new cloak."
Julian raised his eyebrows. "So if you do not owe money,
then…"

"I have savings, yes." Alex felt oddly defensive,

which was ridiculous. Every sensible man set aside
money to safeguard against an uncertain future. "Not

Spoken from the Heart - 277

much, of course. I've only been here four months. I save
a quarter of what I make, if I can."

"There," Marmaduke said with satisfaction. "There's

a sensible man. Though I doubt that you have it invested,
hey?"

Alex squirmed in his seat, pinned by an accusing

glare. "Well, as to that…"

"I thought so."
"What is the purpose behind this?" Julian asked, his

irritation plain. "Get to the point, I beg you. I have to
visit my tailor, and Alex is quiveringly eager to
investigate a new bookshop that's just opened on
Terrance Lane."

"The rest of your father's estate went to me."
"I'm aware." Julian brushed at his breeches, affecting

a disinterest so palpably false it verged on caricature.
Alex reflected that on stage Julian would never have
been so transparently obvious -- unless the script called
for it.

"We had both arranged that if one of us died whilst

our children were young, the child would not be
burdened by an inheritance they were ill-equipped to
handle."

The façade of indifference vanished. Julian's head

came up, and he fixed Marmaduke with a glare Alex
never wished directed at him. "I was of age!"

"In years, yes." Marmaduke was unruffled. "In the

sense that you were mature, responsible…no. Before
you bristle and denounce me, that no longer seems to be
the case, despite your lack of savings. You've
demonstrated a selflessness that would have pleased
your father, though -- and again, I mean no disrespect --
he would not have looked with favor upon young Alex
here."

Spoken from the Heart - 278

"Yet another subject upon which my father and I

would have disagreed."

Alex was gratified by Julian's response, but the white,

pinched look on Julian's face worried him. On the
subject of his father, Julian was rarely capable of a
detached objectivity.

"Alex, though charming, is a peasant."
That struck a little too close to home. Alex cleared

his throat and proceeded to correct that misapprehension.
"My father's farm is one of the largest in our area, and
he is a respected member of the community--"

"I'm sure that's so, dear child, but he's still a farmer."

The dismissive, kind tone was like a slap.

"I could walk in a straight line from the farmhouse

door from sunrise to nightfall and not leave his land,"
Alex said, indignation and a fierce pride filling him. "At
harvest time, a score of men are needed to clear the
fields. He is not wealthy in your eyes, perhaps, because
in the Westerlings no one makes a show of their riches
or wastes them on large houses, new clothes for the sake
of it, or strawberries in winter, but he's no peasant."

A silence fell, broken by a low, rich chuckle from

Julian. He brought his hands together, applauding Alex.
"Oh, well done, Pippin! You've silenced Master
Stellforth and put us both in our place."

Alex ducked his head, shame at his boasting

replacing his indignation. "I should not have said that.
Even if he was a peasant, it's no matter, after all. Honest
work makes every man a king in the Lady's eyes."

"So it's said, but few give it more than lip-service."

Marmaduke nodded his head slowly. "Well. Not so
paltry a prospect after all."

"Oh, I am," Alex said in some surprise. "I inherit

none of it. I'm not firstborn, you see. I'll always have a

Spoken from the Heart - 279

place there, a roof over my head, work and food, but I
won't inherit."

"Oh," Marmaduke said flatly.
Julian gave a crow of laughter. "Hopes dashed! Never

mind, Marmaduke. I love him for more than his
expectations."

"Julian!" Alex protested, but he was smiling as he

said it. To have Julian declare his love so easily, so
openly, yet still with that touching note of sincerity…

"If we could return to your affairs," Marmaduke said,

with a pointed cough. "I've held the monies left to me by
your father in trust, and I fancy I've done well with the
investments, as he'd have wished. The trust winds up
when you're thirty--"

"Thirty!" Julian leaned forward, his hands gripping

the arms of his chair. "That is a full year away."

"But I have the power to dissolve it whenever I see fit,

and I do," Marmaduke finished with a serene smile.

Alex watched Julian's face register a series of

emotions and wondered how many of them were
genuine, unguarded reactions to the news that Julian was,
presumably, now a rich man and how many what Julian
thought he should look like at such a moment.
Reproving himself for his uncharitable thoughts -- and
really, he'd grown accustomed to that side of Julian -- he
waited for Julian to speak.

When he did, it was from his feet. Julian rarely

delivered a dramatic speech from a seated position. "I
cannot thank you for giving me what is mine, but I do
thank you for what I'm sure was a most scrupulous
caretaking."

Marmaduke sighed resignedly. "I thought you would

take this amiss."

Spoken from the Heart - 280

"How else am I supposed to take it?" Julian breathed

in sharply, color rising in his face. "To be told I was
considered a child, to have monies withheld that at times
I've stood in sore need of… Because I lacked funds, I
became the lover of a man prepared to pay to share my
bed. Do you think my father would have approved of
that? Or would the fact that the prick plowing my ass
was noble make all right?"

"Julian!" Alex was on his feet in a moment, clutching

at Julian's arm. To hear such crude language in this
office, weighed down with age and the useful clutter of
decades, seemed shocking.

"Your dealings with Lord Marcus were…regrettable

in many ways, but I never understood them to be
actively distasteful to you."

"As to that…" Julian removed Alex's hand from his

sleeve, but with a grateful squeeze that told Alex his
gesture had been appreciated. "He was never a man I
would have chosen to bed, but he wasn't unkind and he
treated me honorably. Even so."

"Yes," Marmaduke agreed, with a faint sigh that

seemed to note how unfortunate it all was. "Even so."
He looked up at them. "Do sit down, the pair of you. I
have a crick in my neck."

"We will not be staying," Julian said, with a grand air.

If there'd been room, Alex was sure Julian would've
flourished his cloak, but had he been so daring, a
cascade of paper and books would have answered his
gesture. "Please have the monies transferred to my bank
at your earliest convenience."

"If you don't sit down, I'll change my mind and keep

the trust in place until you're thirty! Aye, longer if I
can!"

"You dare threaten me!"

Spoken from the Heart - 281

It was like being at a play, but for once Alex wasn't

on the edge of his seat, enthralled and enchanted.
Heartsick at hearing the two men squabble over a legacy
from a dead man both had loved, he slipped out of the
room and made his way down a dimly lit hallway to the
street.

Outside, the air carrying a tantalizing hint of the

ocean and a more prosaic smell of roasting chestnuts
from a nearby seller, he felt better. He bought a penny's
worth of chestnuts before the cart moved off and
perched himself on the low wall separating
Marmaduke's land from the road to eat them. Blowing
on his burned fingers and picking off the glossy shell
occupied his thoughts sufficiently that he could avoid
thinking about what had happened for a minute or two at
least.

No longer than that, though. With a sigh, he tossed a

burned piece of chestnut to a seagull parading past and
pushed the bag of nuts into his pocket. Julian would
scold him for ruining the line of his jacket, but he had no
patience with such fripperies. Pockets, be they in
breeches or jackets, were meant to hold things.

Julian had always felt rich to Alex, even in the face

of the evidence. It was because Julian had come from
money and never quite lost that air of being accustomed
to the best. Now that appearances had become a reality,
it was impossible not to wonder if Julian would look
higher for a lover.

Gloomily aware that, for all his bragging, his own

prospects were a candle to the Lady's shine, Alex
scuffed at the cobblestones with the toe of his boot, his
shoulder slumped, prey to misgivings.

"Why the long face, Pippin?" Julian clapped Alex on

the shoulder, his face unclouded, a mischievous gleam

Spoken from the Heart - 282

in his eyes. "You're now in love with a very wealthy
man who plans to spoil you shamelessly. Buy every
book you wish, sweetheart, and a carriage to take them
home, too, if you like."

"How can you joke after that scene in there?" And

"scene" was the only word that fit, in Alex's opinion. "I
did not know where to look!"

Julian gathered him in for a swift hug, heedless of

anyone who might be watching. "That? That was
nothing. He expected it, and I gave it to him. There was
never any doubt he would pass over the legacy once I'd
been told of it. He knows had he held onto it, I would
have hounded him mercilessly, and he's too weary for
such games."

"Which is why you should have treated him with

more respect." Alex rolled his eyes. "And now I sound
like my father. I didn't mean to lecture you, and I'm glad
for your good fortune, but… what does it mean to you?
To us?"

Julian sobered, his hand caressing Alex's face lightly.

"Dear, solemn Pippin. It means that life will become
considerably more comfortable for us both, but don't
fear that I will fritter it away lavishly. There's too much
of my father in me for that. I'll not become a miser,
either, but it's not news I shall make public. I would be
plagued by friends wishing trifling loans and bled dry in
months by them."

That was too true for Alex to object to. He'd seen

Julian's generosity repaid by nothing more than a few
careless words of gratitude and a soon-forgotten promise
to return the money.

"You do not fear that I will be seen as one of those

people?" It was difficult to speak the words.

Spoken from the Heart - 283

"You?" The astonishment in Julian's face was

complete. "Alex, you are my lover. What I have is yours,
and this changes nothing. I would love you if we were
paupers in the gutter or ten times as wealthy as the duke.
'Count not love's sweet sighs in silver, nor in gold, but
value them as …as…' Lady take it, I forget how that line
goes!"

Julian looked so put out that Alex laughed aloud,

reassured and comforted. "I can guess the substance of
it."

"I'll look it up when we return home, but for now…"

Julian bowed deeply. "Will you do me the honor of
permitting me to buy you all manner of things, my
sweet?"

Amused, Alex returned the bow, sweeping his hat off

with every bit as lavish a flourish as Julian had. "Sir,
you may buy me anything you deem worthy of me." He
straightened and gave his head a haughty toss. "So I fear
we will be returning home empty-handed. Sorrent is
sadly lacking in anything truly elegant, you know. Why,
not a soul is wearing pea-green."

"And for that," Julian said affably, "I will have the

tailor dress you in it from head to toe, my darling brat."

In the end, Julian relented, if only because the tailor

was close to tears.

***

"Will you still act?" Alex asked as he lay, drowsy and

satiated beside Julian. Their afternoon of shopping had
turned into an evening visiting the most elegant places
Sorrent had to offer, the two of them taking tea at
Celandine's, followed by a stroll in Green Park at
precisely the most fashionable hour. Julian had nodded

Spoken from the Heart - 284

to people every few yards and kept his smile in place
when the owner of the Garrick theater cut him. The
repercussions of recent events had still not quite died
away, and Sampton was barely civil to either of them.
They'd dined at March and Bowers, where a glass of
wine could cost as much as a barrel of a more common
vintage. Alex had quelled the inner voice protesting the
sheer waste of money and smiled and sipped as if he
drank nothing less every day. The wine had lain cool
and fresh on his tongue and left it loosened so that he'd
babbled nonsense that seemed poetry until Julian had
smiled and led him home.

Their lovemaking had been tumultuous, a single kiss

firing their senses so that they could scarce keep their
hands off each other for long enough to climb the stairs.
Julian had never taken him with such fervent passion,
his hands sweeping over Alex's body with a surety of
touch that spoke volumes. Alex had felt possessed and
cherished, taken and adored, his body opening to the
sweet thrust of Julian's tongue and then yielding to the
cock that followed. Julian had been like iron inside him,
living iron, hot and hard, sinking so deeply into Alex
with every thrust that his hole was crammed full. Alex
was overwhelmed, but if Julian had set him adrift in
ecstasy's seas, his were the hands that drew Alex to a
safe harbor, too.

"I could not be happy if I did not." Julian ran his

fingertips over Alex's stomach, the light caress making
Alex shiver with pleasure. "I've never acted for the
wages. I'd make more as a waiter at Lindy's. I do it
because I must. It satisfies some craving in me."

"I understand that. I don't have the same need to

carve wood, though I love working with it, but reading -
- oh, I could never give that up!"

Spoken from the Heart - 285

"So, yes, rich or poor, I'll still act, but where, that's

the question?"

"You could buy your own theatre." The suggestion

wasn't a serious one, but Julian chuckled.

"Marmaduke suggested that once he'd calmed down.

I pointed out Sorrent isn't large enough to support three
theatres and that Sampton would declare a blood feud
and hunt me down if I set up as his rival."

"True, though it's not like you to be so sensible. What

did he say to that?"

"I can be…well, not sensible -- how dull! -- but

practical. He agreed with me, of course. It doesn't matter.
I don't want to own a theater, I simply want to act.
Just…not here."

"You want to leave Sorrent?" Alex was breathless, as

if he'd run a mile. "Oh!"

"I've lived here all my life, but I've traveled a good

deal, too. I find myself restless. I'm twenty-nine soon.
Too young to settle down, but old enough to wish for a
certain amount of security. My inheritance has given me
that and made it possible for us to live anywhere we
wish." Julian rolled to his side, and, propped up on his
elbow, stared down at Alex. "I can't decide anything
until I know your feelings, sweetheart. Do you feel it's
too soon to leave Sorrent? You have a job here, you
have friends -- and really, you've been here such a short
space of time."

"Long enough to meet you." Alex slipped his hand

around Julian's neck and pulled him down for a kiss. "I
left home to see the Realm. I've seen such a small part of
it, and I want to see more, so, yes, I'll go wherever you
like, Julian. I have friends here, to be sure, and I'll miss
Duncan, but we can always return for visits."

Spoken from the Heart - 286

"You sound sincere, but I know you, Pippin. You're

holding something back." Julian curled a lock of Alex's
hair around his finger and tugged it lightly. "Tell me."

"Let go of my hair first." Alex didn't mind it being

touched or stroked, but he wasn't overly fond of it being
played with. "I'm not keeping anything back. I do want
to travel with you for a time, until you find a theater you
like. Wherever we are, I can get work, and I haven't
been in Sorrent long enough to get attached to anything
in it but you."

"So industrious. So capable." Julian nuzzled into

Alex's neck. "So adorable. Lady, I can't get my fill of
kissing you."

Alex smiled and angled his head to allow Julian to

kiss his neck all he wished, but his mind was busy. Was
there something he wanted? He knew if he voiced a
wish, Julian would see it granted if it was in his power.
It was that knowledge that made Alex careful about
what he wished for. He'd idly admired a plume of
feathers in a shop, long, fluffy, dyed a brilliant scarlet --
and found it on his bed the next day. What Julian had
expected him to do with it, he didn't know.

Alex had put it in a drawer with the utmost care and

closed it with a feeling of relief that it was out of sight.
Julian had retrieved it a week later and used it to drive
Alex wild with lust, binding his hands to the bed,
ordering him to close his eyes, and drawing the plume
over his skin in tantalizing patterns. Unable to guess
where the next soft touch would fall, maddeningly
arousing yet never quite enough, Alex had been reduced
to sobbing out pleas for mercy that neither of them had
really wanted granted. His finish had swept through him
like a storm when Julian, tiring of the game, had used
the pointed shaft to scrawl "I love you" across Alex's

Spoken from the Heart - 287

taut stomach, the fleeting, delicately precise pain
somehow the perfect spur.

Julian captured his mouth for a deep, long kiss, and a

dozen vague, fugitive thoughts crystallized into a single
desire. When Julian paused for breath, Alex closed his
eyes.

"I want to go home."
The words hung between them like fog, but only for a

moment. A kiss brought Alex's eyelids up again, and he
saw that Julian was smiling, though his eyes were
troubled.

"Well, but of course. The city was never really where

you belonged. I completely understand -- oh Lady take it,
I cannot do this!"

The bed rocked under Alex as Julian scrambled to his

knees, his chest heaving, his eyes bright with sudden
tears.

"Julian?"
"You will go back to that farm of yours and never

leave."

"I most certainly will not." Alex sat up. "I want to go

home, yes, but only to visit. I -- I came so close to dying,
and if I had… I want to see them again, all of them. I
want them to meet you. We need not stay long. You'll be
bored there, I know, but it's so beautiful there this time
of year! We could travel to the foothills, where the
turning leaves make the land look as if it's on fire at
sunset and dawn. Go up to the mountains -- there's an
inn there beside a waterfall, Julian, and oh, it's the most
wonderful of sights! The water pours down, a single
twisting column, then meets the rocks and explodes
back in a cloud of mist. When the sunlight strikes it just
so, it's a mass of rainbows." He ducked his head. "It's
said to be lucky for lovers to spend a night there."

Spoken from the Heart - 288

"Said by the innkeeper, no doubt," Julian said. "I've

heard of it, but the troupe never passed close enough for
me to visit it."

There was a pause, then Julian sighed. "Oh, very

well! We'll start our wanderings in the Westerlings --
but Lady help you if you try to make me drink country
tea."

Alex beamed at him. "You mean it? You'll come with

me?"

Julian gave him a look of fond exasperation. "Pippin,

were I to let you go there alone, who would rescue you
when you fell into a scrape? Who would tell you when
you wore breeches that clashed with your jerkin? Who
would put up with your icy feet and your snoring? Who-
-"

"Enough!" Laughing, Alex tumbled Julian to his back

and straddled him, pinning Julian's wrists to the bed. "I
do not need rescuing, nor do I need fashion advice," he
told Julian. "And I don't snore. But I do need you. Oh,
sweet Lady, Julian, I need you so much."

Julian smiled. "Then take me."

Spoken from the Heart - 289

Chapter Twenty-Four

Julian waved away a fly. Really, it was most

unseasonably warm, given that winter was approaching,
but the innkeeper had spoken of snow on its way,
unlikely though that seemed. The mornings in the
mountains were chill and dark, but now, with the
afternoon sun shining down and the sky cloudless, that
seemed hard to credit.

He took a seat on a large stone, a prudent distance

away from the edge of the cliff, and watched the
waterfall spill down, its endless thunder no longer
impressing him. It was a stunning sight, to be sure, and
the rainbows were pretty, but he could see why the inn
was frequented mostly by lovers.

They had other sources of entertainment when the

scenery wore thin.

He preferred the mountains, empty though they were

of anything resembling amusement, to the Martin farm,
though. The week they'd planned to spend with Alex's
family had been tactfully shortened to three days, with
no one truly sorry when the visit had ended.

Julian had observed the somewhat bewildered

welcome Alex had received with a roll of the eyes no
one had noticed. They were too busy trying to fathom
how half a year away had changed Alex into a man.
Love, a brush or two with death, and a new wardrobe
that fit and flattered Alex's tall, broad-shouldered frame
had been responsible for that, but it was the wardrobe
that had attracted most attention.

It was as if velvet, furs, and silk didn't exist in the

Westerlings, for Lady's sake…

Still, Julian had to grudgingly admit the welcome had

mellowed to warmth once the Martins had realized this

Spoken from the Heart - 290

was a visit, not a return home. Explanations and
introductions had taken place with everyone crowded
into a kitchen that, though large, was woefully dreary to
Julian's eyes, and he'd been served cider when he'd
confessed his unfortunate inability to stomach country
tea without coming out in a rash.

The cider had been crisp, sparkling against his tongue,

cold, and quite possibly the best he'd ever tasted, and
he'd said so, receiving a small, gratified smile from
Mistress Martin in reply.

That smile had vanished when Alex reached the part

in his -- tactfully edited -- story about his illness. Julian
had always dismissed the Martins as narrow-minded
peasants who didn't appreciate Alex, but he'd been
forced to change his opinion. Alex's father might view
reading as a waste of time and actors prancing popinjays
-- that was never likely to change -- but he'd clasped
Alex to him in a hug and shaken Julian's hand heartily
on discovering that his son's life had been saved by
Julian's efforts.

Mistress Martin had looked stricken, as if the loss

had occurred, not been averted.

"We would never have known," she'd said, her hand

covering her mouth as if to hold back the words. Julian
noted the gesture absently, but he'd already locked away
the twist of Master Martin's lips as he struggled to
control their trembling. It was a habit of his -- of most
actors -- and he'd long since lost any guilt over it.
"Never have known he was dead."

"But I'm not!" Alex sometimes lacked understanding

of emotions, Julian had thought wryly before the
Martins had visibly gathered their composure and
scattered to the tasks that even an errant son's
triumphant return could not render irrelevant.

Spoken from the Heart - 291

The farmlands were as extensive as Alex had

described them. Julian, a town dweller at heart, had still
been able to appreciate the wealth buried in the rich,
fertile soil and shown in well-kept buildings and healthy
livestock.

It was all delightfully pastoral, from the ever-

changing colors of the autumnal trees to the ear-splitting
crow of the rooster each dawn.

He'd done his best to endear himself to Alex's family,

but it had been a struggle. None of his achievements or
accomplishments meant anything here, and his
inheritance, which consisted of money in a bank, not
land, was a matter of indifference to them.

It was sobering, humbling even. He'd vowed to learn

from it and become a better person, but when he'd
confided that ambition to Alex as they lay side by side
in a bed so narrow they had to lie facing each other to
avoid falling out of it, Alex had snickered.

"You are Julian Melville," Alex had murmured with a

yawn. "The Julian Melville. Hold onto that thought and
keep your head high, my love."

And he had. The evening before they left, he'd stood

in the kitchen, the fireplace lighting him in ruddy hues,
and given them King Henry's best speeches, after setting
out the plot of the play.

They'd been restless at first, stiffly uncomfortable

with what good manners was forcing them to endure,
but Julian had dealt with hostile audiences before.

He'd won them over, line by line, gesture by gesture.

Made them see the king's descent and hate and pity the
monarch in equal measure as his madness drove him to
cruelty and despair.

It might be years before he ever got the chance to

play the role in a serious production, but that night, in

Spoken from the Heart - 292

the kitchen, the rhythmic purring of a huge black cat the
only sound when he spoke his final word, it was enough.

Oh, that silence! Every actor knew it, the pause, brief,

charged, before an audience gave it up in wild
applause…

He didn't get that, perhaps, but the discreet use of a

handkerchief by Alex's mother and sister and the
sheepish mutterings of men betrayed into feeling were
good enough…

"If you're thinking of jumping, the place jilted lovers

usually choose is farther to your left."

Julian jumped, jolted out of his musings by Alex's

approach. "I was thinking about pushing you over and
gaining an uninterrupted night's sleep, brat."

Alex laughed, the sound so free of care that Julian

felt warmth fill him. "I tell you, I don't snore!"

"It wasn't snoring that kept me awake," Julian said,

with a meaningful glance.

Alex blushed a delicious shade of pink. That he still

could was a source of amazement to Julian. Alex was all
passion and daring in bed, his naivety permitting him to
be adventurous in ways a more experienced Julian found
enlivening to say the least. Alex had nothing to hold him
back -- Julian certainly did not wish to -- and so he
expressed his ardor without self-consciousness or
inhibitions to constrain it.

Julian, his back aching from being taken against the

wall, held up by Alex's strong arms and his own grim
determination not to forgo a single one of Alex's deep,
satisfying thrusts, could only hope his stamina would
prove equal to the task of keeping up with Alex's
demands.

"As to that, I don't recall you telling me to stop."

Spoken from the Heart - 293

"You were naked and most charmingly insistent that

you were not done with me. How could I choose sleep
over that?"

They smiled at each other, Julian reading a reflection

of his contentment in Alex's sparkling, green eyes.

Alex was holding two wine glasses by their stems

and a stoppered jug. He held them up. "Would you care
for a glass of wine?"

"I most certainly would. I've spent the last hour

talking to a woman who swears she saw my Duke Justin
five years ago in a small town in Ferrin province. It's a
role I've never played, in a town I've never visited, but
she refused to accept that."

"I saw you talking to her, but you looked so taken

with the lady that I didn't wish to interrupt," Alex said
demurely.

Julian gave him a cold glare that troubled Alex not

one whit judging by his grin. "You mean that you
wanted to go fishing and feared I'd stop you."

"I caught three trout, and they'll be on our plates at

supper. The cook was most impressed by their size."

Fresh trout, accompanied by perfectly prepared

vegetables and a delicately piquant sauce…Julian let his
glare dissolve into a fondly admiring smile. "I'm always
impressed by your size, sweetheart."

"You are wicked, and did I not love you to distraction,

I'd disapprove of you, I'm sure."

Julian watched Alex pour them both a glass of red

wine. "No, you wouldn't. You're no longer a country boy.
Your horizons have expanded."

"Not everyone's glad of that."
"Your family?" When Alex didn't answer, Julian

shifted over to make room for him on the rock and stole
a kiss when Alex passed him his wine. "They missed

Spoken from the Heart - 294

you growing up in the months you were away. They're
not quite sure what to make of you. If we call in on the
way back, it will be a different story."

"No. We don't need to do that." Alex gestured at the

sky. "Snow is coming. We should continue through the
pass to Cotterill and set sail for the south."

Julian didn't try to persuade Alex that the detour

wouldn't take that much time, given they'd planned to
spend a week at the farm. He had no wish to return there,
and he was longing to show Alex the cities of the south -
- and to see Alex's reaction to being out on the ocean,
with no land in sight. Some men found that
disconcerting, but Alex, he was sure, would love the
wild emptiness, the restless power of the surging waves.

He took a sip of his wine, approving the deep,

rounded taste that left hints of berry and oak on his
tongue and a pleasing peppery aftertaste. It was vaguely
familiar, which surprised him.

"What wine is this?"
"Why, Reckton Red." Alex pointed down the valley.

"It's made at a village over there. Don't you like it?"

Julian chose his words carefully. "I like this, but

Reckton is a wine for -- well, it's usually a
trifle…rougher?"

Alex snickered. "They send the young wine to the

cities. What we drink here has been aged for years. It's
good, yes?"

Julian's jaw dropped. "You send us your dregs?" he

demanded.

Alex shrugged. "We'd be fools not to when you don't

seem to know the difference." He grinned impishly.
"The cities never get the best of what we have to offer."

Julian looked at him, the blaze of red hair, the clear

green eyes filled with a sweetness no amount of

Spoken from the Heart - 295

misfortune had soured, and shook his head even as he
reached out to tilt Alex's chin up.

"Not true, Pippin. Sometimes they send us the cream

of the crop, and we're eternally grateful that they did."

And when understanding dawned, he leaned in to kiss

not Alex's lips, but his cheek, where another blush was
heating the fair skin so that it was warm against his
mouth.

Spoken from the Heart - 296

If you enjoyed this, try these other titles from Jane
Davitt and Torquere Press!

Hourglass

When Ben Adler gives in and makes his young

daughter's wish come true, making a movie out of a TV
show he used to produce, he knows he's going to have
big problems. One of the leads from the original is a big
star now, but the other's vanished into obscurity, leading
a life far from the glitz and glamour of Hollywood. Not
to mention that Ben can still remember how the two
actors' scorching off-screen romance went up in flames.

Undeterred, Ben goes forward with the project,

recruiting Ash and Lee by dangling very attractive
carrots before them. The cameras start to roll, but the
main action takes place off set. It's never easy to work
with an old flame, or to handle the renewed feelings that
are bound to come out. As two men whocould never get
enough of each other deal with a rekindled attraction,
they discover that when it comes to love, there's always
time for a retake.

Wild Raspberries

When Daniel Seaton inadvertently trespasses on

Tyler Edward's land, things almost go very, very wrong.
It's bad enough that Dan's a runaway, but when Tyler
nearly shoots him on sight, Dan knows he's in trouble.
Tyler's got a lot of years under his belt, and his past
doesn't let him accept strangers easily. Dan's situation is
dire enough that Tyler takes him home, at least for a
little while, and that turns out to be a good decision
when Dan decides to stay on and help out with the
chores.

Spoken from the Heart - 297

Tyler might be learning to trust, and Dan might be

settling in to a new life, but things are not always what
they seem. Between interfering friends, injuries, and
their attraction to each other, Tyler and Dan have plenty
of troubles. More trouble turns up in the form of Tyler's
past, which catches up to them with a vengeance, and
they decide to start a new life together, one that requires
them to leave everything behind. Can they overcome
what lies in the past to have a future with each other?

Wintergreen

Tyler and Dan are heading off on a vacation in this

sequel to Wild Raspberries, but life has a way of
throwing a wrench into even the best laid plans. All
work and no play makes Dan restless and bored, waiting
for Tyler to complete a task for his former boss, Cole.
The job is an important one, for sure. Tyler is looking
for a traitor, responsible for the deaths of several agents.
That doesn't make being ignored any easier to deal with,
and Dan wonders if their relationship is strong enough
to last through the lull.

When the job finally ends, Dan is more than ready to

go with Tyler to see the sights. He expects beaches,
mountains, sun and surf. Instead, Dan is thrown
headlong into Tyler's world, where death is a heartbeat
away, not a lifetime, and the man he loves is the one
dealing it out. Can Dan learn to live with what he finds
out, or will he have to make his way back to a life that
he ran away from?

Spoken from the Heart - 298