Chapter 355: Chapter 355: The making of an heir
Lucas could barely move his hands; he was more tempted to sink back into the sheets and let the cedar wrapped around him lull him under again. Unfortunately for him, Windstone had decided that his two masters should be responsible and start the day already.
"Young master, stop scowling; you are scaring the staff," Windstone said blandly, pouring coffee like he hadn’t just dragged Lucas from his bed by sheer force of will.
Trevor, lounging against the headboard in nothing but loose linen trousers, chuckled low in his throat. "He’s always like this in the morning. You should be used to it."
"I am," Windstone replied serenely, setting a cup within Lucas’s reluctant reach. "But the staff isn’t, and I’ve no intention of losing another maid to dramatics before luncheon."
Lucas cracked one green eye open, glaring over the rim of the blanket. "If she ran because I scowled, she wasn’t meant for this house."
"On that, we agree," Windstone said, unbothered. He set a plate of toast down with clinical precision. "Now. Given that this is your second attempt, I thought it best to remind you both that certain preparations will take time."
Trevor’s violet eyes flicked toward him, sharp. "Preparations?"
Windstone folded his hands behind his back, facing the picture of composure. "For an heir, sir. Staff screening, the nursery wing restored, and medical support arranged. I prefer to be ahead rather than scrambling once it becomes official."
Lucas groaned into the pillow, muffling his words. "He’s worse than Benjamin."
"Hardly." Windstone’s tone didn’t shift, though the faintest glint of humor edged his eyes. "Benjamin wants gossip. I only want order."
Trevor laughed quietly, brushing his hand over Lucas’s hair. "And here I thought you started doing it the moment our last heat passed."
Windstone inclined his head the barest fraction. "Naturally. I do not wait on chance. I plan for inevitability."
Lucas dragged the pillow off his face just enough to glare between them. "You’re both insane."
Trevor’s mouth curved into the lazy grin of a man who found Lucas adorable even when he was snarling. "Insane enough to keep up with you."
Windstone adjusted a cuff, utterly unruffled. "Someone has to ensure this household runs when both of you are distracted by... other pursuits." His eyes flicked, just briefly, toward the sheets still twisted around their legs, the air still heavy with bond and cedar. "I take my duty seriously."
Lucas threw the pillow at him. Windstone caught it neatly against his chest without so much as blinking.
"You see?" Lucas muttered, sitting up finally, hair falling into his eyes. "Worse than Benjamin. At least Benjamin faints at the thought of responsibility. You thrive on it."
"I thrive on results," Windstone corrected, placing the pillow back on the bed with the same precision as the toast. "Speaking of which, your physician recommended a check-in in seven days’ time. I’ve already cleared your schedule."
Lucas stared at him, then turned a slow look on Trevor. "Even Windstone is more enthusiastic about children than you are."
Trevor leaned in, pressing his lips to Lucas’s temple, cedar curling warmly between them. "Wrong," he murmured. "I’m just possessive enough to not want to share you."
"That’s not what you said the other night," Lucas replied without an ounce of shame, green eyes gleaming under mussed hair.
Trevor froze, the faintest hitch in his breath betraying him. Then he gave a low laugh, rough at the edges, his violet eyes darkening as though remembering every word. "You’re dangerous when you say things like that in daylight," he muttered.
Windstone, mercifully, or perhaps deliberately, chose that moment to collect the empty tray. "Breakfast will be served properly in the dining room in thirty minutes," he announced, as if the air hadn’t just thickened with heat between his two masters. "If you intend to be late, I’ll inform the staff."
He bowed with impeccable composure and slipped out, leaving silence in his wake.
Lucas smirked, leaning back against the pillows. "He knows," he murmured, voice deliberately taunting. "He’s probably already counting months in his head."
Trevor’s hand slid along his jaw, tilting his face up until their eyes locked. "Let him count," he said, cedar wrapping tighter around them both. "All I care about is what you asked me for. And I’ll give it again, and again, until it happens."
Lucas’s lips curved, sharp and pleased. "That’s more like it."
—
The day moved lazily, as country days often did. They’d eventually wandered down for a late breakfast, endured Windstone’s perfectly polite silence, and escaped to Trevor’s study, where paperwork sat ignored under the weight of shared glances. Lucas pretended to read a report; Trevor pretended to sign one. Neither fooled the other.
By mid-afternoon, the game was over.
Trevor shut the folder with a decisive snap, violet eyes fixed on Lucas across the desk. "You know what you did this morning," he said, voice low.
Lucas tilted his head, feigning innocence, his green eyes glinting. "Which part? The scowling? Or reminding you of what you said the other night?"
Trevor came around the desk, slow and deliberate, cedar darkening in the air with each step. "That."
Lucas leaned back in the chair, watching him approach, that faintly smug smile tugging at his mouth. "I only repeated the truth."
Trevor bracketed him in with both hands on the arms of the chair, leaning down until their foreheads nearly touched. "The truth," he murmured, "is that I can’t think about anything else."
Lucas’s breath hitched, but his smile didn’t falter. "Then prove it."
The words snapped Trevor’s restraint clean in two. He hauled Lucas up out of the chair and onto the desk in one smooth motion, scattering pens and folders across the polished wood. Lucas’s laugh was cut off by Trevor’s mouth claiming his, a deep, hungry kiss that left no space for air.
Within moments Lucas was sprawled across the desk, shirt tugged open, and tie loosened by Trevor’s impatient hands. The papers under him crumpled, forgotten, as Trevor’s cedar scent saturated the air, mixing with the honey already rising sharp from Lucas’s skin.
"Every time you taunt me," Trevor growled against his throat, marking him with sharp, possessive bites, "you’ll get this. Every time you remind me what you want, I’ll give it again until your body can’t forget it."
Lucas arched beneath him, a shudder tearing through him as Trevor pressed him down harder into the desk. "Then I’ll never stop reminding you," he whispered, green eyes blazing with hunger and trust.
Trevor’s laugh was dark, feral, and full of promise. "Good," he said, before driving into him with all the certitude of a man determined to fulfill every word.
And as the afternoon sun streamed across the study windows, the Fitzgeralt crest embossed on scattered papers, Trevor proved again and again that Lucas’s trust, his taunts, and his shameless honesty were the most dangerous, intoxicating weapons in his world.