A Seditious Affair(32)

Dominic tightened his fingers. “Silas…”

“God’s tits, what am I supposed to say? You and me. What sense does that make?”

“No sense at all.” Dominic felt himself smile at the words, and saw a spark leap to Silas’s eyes as though along a burning fuse.

“Well, now if you say that…Aye, no, you’re wrong, it makes perfect sense.” Silas was grinning as well. “Because Without contraries is no progression.”

Dominic blinked. “What does that mean?”

“Attraction and repulsion, reason and energy, love and hate, are necessary to human existence. That’s Blake again, the printmaker. Contraries. I reckon you ought to read it.”

“It sounds utter nonsense.” Another of Silas’s disturbing, alien, probably illicit recommendations. Dominic disagreed habitually and strongly with them and loved the challenge of disputing them, the glittering ranks of ideas their arguments brought forth—

Without contraries is no progression.

Well, now.

“Lend it to me next Wednesday?” he suggested, and Silas’s smile was ludicrously boyish on his rough features. “Here, still? It’s as safe as anywhere.”

“Aye, here. Listen, Tory—Dom. Couple of things. If I get caught up in the law—”

“I may well hear about it,” Dominic pointed out. “I’ll give you my card, though. Let me know if you can’t make it or—or if you need my help.”

Silas gave him a look. “Not planning to ruin you, or to help you ruin yourself either. I’ll stand on my own feet, thanks.”

“And other people’s toes, I have no doubt. I know. But it is only sensible to be sure you can find me, should you need to.”

Silas brushed his hand through Dominic’s hair, such a tender movement that Dominic felt a sudden pulse of panic. “Silas. Silas, I need to ask. I…Are you happy to continue? As we have been?” Richard’s words pricked at his mind. But I love you. How could I hurt you?

“Why not?” Silas kissed his ear. “Tell you something. I’m not changing my mind about most of that stuff in that drawer, but I’ll admit, I liked the look of you with those cuffs on.”

That brought a familiar squirm in his belly, along with a relief so profound it made him ache. “You’re in the wrong line of work. You should serve the law. A gaoler, perhaps.”

“Watch your mouth, Tory. But if I tie you to the bed, say—aye, thought you’d like that idea—you’ll need some way to say if it ain’t right.” Silas’s fingers ran down over Dominic’s vulnerable throat, the hollow at the base of his neck, exerting just a little pressure. “I like you fighting it every step of the way, don’t get me wrong. I want to play with you all night till you’re begging me to stop, and then do it some more.” Dominic bit back a groan. “But you got to have a way to say if there’s a problem, and that’s all there is to it. I know you don’t want it, but—”

“You need it,” Dominic finished. “I know. What way do you mean?”

“Well, it’s no good you saying ‘no’ and ‘stop,’ is it? I don’t give a toss for your ‘no’ and ‘stop.’ I’ve not listened to that in a year; I’m not about to start now.” His calloused hand slid over Dominic’s cheek, and Dominic leaned into it. “But…say you call me Mason, I’ll listen to that. Right?”

A code word, a way out. It wasn’t what he wanted, and Silas knew it and was doing his best to negotiate a path between Dominic’s desires and his well-being. The care of it left him unable to do anything but nod.

“Good enough, then. Come on, let’s have a drink.” Silas rose, hitching his still-open trousers up, and went to get the discarded glasses. He passed Dominic his, then hauled him off the floor by his free hand and tugged him over to the bed. “I don’t know about you, but I’m meaning to enjoy this.”





Chapter 6


Dominic sat by the fire in the private rooms at Quex’s and relished the solitude. He needed it.

He had only just returned to Quex’s now that Richard had decamped to his country house for the hunting. Richard’s departure had been delayed by Harry’s convalescence and the various scandals hitting the Vane family—Harry’s radical past, his grandfather’s death “cleaning his gun,” a female cousin’s elopement with a common soldier. Dominic had felt for Richard, in truth. He knew how much the family name meant to his friend, and the series of scandals had caused ill-suppressed glee among the gossipmongers. The Vanes were a noble family of high regard; it seemed to Dominic that his peers in society were almost as enthusiastic to see them taken down a peg as the most extreme radical of the streets would be.