Chapter 10

Percy puthis few belongings on the bed in Albie’s room.

Albie’s old room.

Percy’s new room.

Albie had transferred his things to the room that had been his father’s, leaving Percy a small chest of drawers and his very own room.

He didn’t even have his own room back in his parents’ house. Granted, their house was nicer. No, not nicer. It was built with more money, that’s all.

Albie’s house was a home.

Something his parents’ house could never quite manage. It certainly wasn’t a home when he was told to leave...

But now he had his very own room.

And Albie across the hall. Something he tried not to think about. How they’d be sleeping in the same house with no one else around.

He couldn’t even believe that he and Albie were the same. That neither of them had an eye for women. He never dreamed he’d ever meet another man like him, let alone one who looked at him in that way.

Who kissed him.

Who pressed him up against the shelf or the desk, allowing him to feel the hardness of his manhood.

Percy had almost expired on the spot.

He’d always known he was attracted to men, even when he was a young boy, but he didn’t know it could feel like that.

He didn’t know it would set his blood on fire and make his brain shut down.

All he knew was that he wanted more.

More of what, he wasn’t sure. That feeling. The rush, the thrill. The pleasure.

He understood now why men lost all reasoning when it came to the pleasure of the flesh. He understood now what might make a man risk everything for one chance...

He understood now.

Granted, his desire was for men, but he assumed it to be no different.

To want, to crave, to desire.

The need that made Percy push Albie to sit on the bed and crush his mouth to his. To kiss him. To want more but making himself stop.

“Everything all right?”

Albie’s voice startled him. Percy jumped, his hand to his heart. “Oh, yes, I’m fine. Just thinking...”

“Of?”

He smiled with a rush of breath and dared to meet Albie’s gaze. “Just how grateful I am.”

Albie rubbed his arm. “We should leave this, finish our chores outside before Des and Robert come back. They’ll be cold and hungry, so I’ll need to make a start on lunch.”

Percy nodded. Yes, work. Work seemed like a very good idea.

They had everything done by the time Des and Robert brought the small herd into the front holding yard.

While they ate a hearty lunch, Percy got Bandit ready for his trial with the cattle. He saddled him but walked him across the yard and in through the gates.

He knew all eyes were on him, so he just prayed he didn’t make a fool of himself. He knew Bandit would be okay with some time. He was used to sheep, after all. And he rode okay around the bullock teams in town.

But still, he didn’t appreciate the audience.

He took Bandit’s reins and led him closer to the herd. They were yearlings, so while there were no big horns, they were skittish, but Bandit did okay.

He only shied away a time or two, but Percy didn’t want to push his luck. He tied his reins to the railing allowing him to simply get used to the cattle. He wasn’t about to ride him into a skittish herd of young cows and bull calves.

He didn’t fancy getting bucked off and trampled.

Des came over, limping across the yard to lean on the railing. The morning ride must’ve given his leg a workout. “You did good,” he said.

Percy felt a rush of pride. Praise coming from Des was a merit. “I don’t want to rush him too soon. If he gets bumped or startled, I’ll never get him near them again.”

Des gave a nod. “That’s right.”

“How long will they be in this yard for?”

“Coupla days. We’ll separate ’em and put the bull calves out in the southern paddock.”

Ah, right.

For breeding stock or for slaughter. It made sense.

Percy gave Bandit a scratch behind the ear. “Then he’ll have a few days to get used to them.”

Des gave a nod. “Go walk to the back of this lot and bring the cattle in. I’ll hold Bandit.”

Percy did that, and for a good while, they worked the cattle in and around Bandit. Though Percy got the feeling Des was giving him a lesson more than his horse, conditioning him to be around the livestock, but he loved it all the same.

They laughed a lot, despite the cold, and by the end of it, Percy felt a part of the team. As if he belonged here.

Robert came over, a little sheepish. “Hey, Percy,” he hedged. “How about I take Bandit for ya and you go and save dinner? Albie mentioned getting started on it and, uh, jeez... you’d be doin’ us all a great favour if you did the cooking. If you know what I mean. No disrespect to Albie at all—I’m grateful for any food, lemme tell ya. But there’s bein’ grateful, and then there’s bein’ grateful. If you know what I mean.”

Percy laughed and handed the reins over. “Be my guest. I like my damper chewable as much as the next man.”

“I will tell on both of you,” Des said with a laugh.

“You told me yourself that Percy’s cookin’ was ten times better than Albie’s,” Robert whisper-shouted at Des. “Don’t you back out on me now.”

Des hissed at him to shut up, but Percy laughed as he put his hands up. “I sure as hell ain’t gonna tell him. Your secret’s safe with me.” He took a few paces toward the house and stopped, turning back to them. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten what you said about my porridge this morning.”

Robert patted his belly. “You know, I wasn’t even hungry by lunch time, so maybe it wasn’t so bad.”

Percy was still smiling when he headed inside. He hung his coat up and went into the washroom to scrub his hands. He found Albie in the kitchen, holding the butter as if he was entirely unsure what to do with it.

“You put some in the flour, yes?”

Percy laughed and took it from him. “Let me.”

Albie gave him a smile, studying him for a long moment. “You had a good afternoon.”

“I did. Great, even. Never would have guessed Des has a sense of humour.”

Albie chuckled and his smile lingered a few seconds before fading. “I miss being out there. I understand things need to be done in the home, and I went over more of my father’s ledgers. Not sure I’m any the wiser for it, but seeing how he did things helps.”

“You’ll get on top of it,” Percy said as he folded the dough. “In no time flat. You’re smarter than you think.”

Albie’s smile was rueful, a little sad even. He gave a pointed nod to the pot on the stove. “Probably only a day left in the stew. Will have to start one from scratch tomorrow. We haven’t hung a beast in a while, so I’m not sure what I’ll make it from.” He sighed. “I guess we’ll find an old cow, one that won’t make us much at market. Should keep us fed for a while.”

Percy perked up at that. “Ever had rabbit stew?”

Albie shook his head. “Not for years.”

He grinned. “Then tomorrow we’ll set some traps. We can take down some pigeons too. Or galahs.”

Albie screwed his nose up at that. “Galahs? I think I’d rather not.”

“Or a wallaby,” Percy suggested. “Wallaby stew’s pretty good eating. Plenty of options. We’ll make do, Albie. We’ll get by just fine.”

Albie gave him a soft smile, his eyes warm and kind.

It was a personal and private expression that made Percy stop what he was doing.

“Thank you,” Albie murmured.

“What are you thanking me for?”

“You’re a light to my dark,” he said softly. “Where I see doom and gloom, you’re looking for a break in the clouds. You brighten me.”

“Oh.”

He wasn’t sure what else he could say. He’d never heard such beautiful words.

“You speak like a poet,” Percy mumbled, going back to his dough. He was embarrassed now. “You say things out loud that I’ve only read about in books.”

Albie chuckled. “A poet, huh? You know, just the other day, I likened this—” He ran his thumb across Percy’s jaw. “—the blush on your cheeks, your blue eyes and pink lips, as something a poet or painter could only dream of.”

Percy gasped, swatting Albie’s hand away. “All the heavens above, Albie,” he hissed at him. “Robert or Des could see us, or worse, hear you. You can’t say things like that to me.”

He was sure his skin burned from his toes to his scalp; he could feel the heat in his face.

And what did Albie do?

He laughed. “Hold still,” he said, taking a wet cloth and gently wiping Percy’s cheek. “You have flour. I think it’s endearing, but the others may not.”

“I do not,” Percy said, wiping the back of his hand across his cheek, probably making it worse. “If you want this damper ready for supper, you’ll do well to leave me be. Go on, go make yourself useful somewhere else.”

Albie snorted, surprised, a little shocked. Perhaps Percy had overstepped. He was just about to apologise when Albie laughed. “Fine. Yes, I’ll go make myself useful somewhere else.”

Percy felt bad, but Albie gave him a smirk over his shoulder as he left, as if he was enjoying this bickering and game of push and pull a little too much.

He’s such a devil, Percy thought. Though he smiled as he worked.

Dinner was quiet as they ate, though the soft sighs of appreciation as they tasted the damper were worth all the effort.

“Didn’t, by chance, make any of that Cocky’s Joy again, did ya?” Robert asked. Des and Albie both waited for a reply, and Percy couldn’t help but grin.

“I did. As thanks for helping me and Bandit with the cattle today.”

Des looked surprised. “Oh, you don’t need to?—”

Robert elbowed him. “Yes, he does. And you need to help him do something every day, so we get sweets.”

Percy laughed. “I’ll make it whenever I can. No need for special favours.”

When they each had their first mouthful of the syrupy bread, they sighed and closed their eyes, and that right there was enough reason for Percy to make it for them.

This was a hard life. They worked hard, and they gave their all to help Albie, so a little sweet treat in return was a small gesture by any means.

It made Percy happy to do what he could.

When they were done and when Robert and Des got the door for the coats, Des gave Percy a nod. “Hope you manage some shut-eye tonight.”

Percy almost dropped the plate he was holding, and he pretended his cheeks didn’t burn hot.

What did he know?

That he and Albie were maybe going to...

“Yep, enjoy the quiet,” Robert said. “Sorry Des snores so bad you gotta sleep elsewhere.”

Des shoved him out the door and they bickered across the yard until Percy couldn’t hear them anymore.

Albie cleared his throat. “That was quite the reaction, Percy.”

“I wasn’t... I didn’t...”

“You were thinking something.”

Percy continued to stack the plates. “I was thinking you and your innuendos are a burr in my boot, that’s what I was thinking. Now, go and get your books while I clean this up. Reading or ledgers, you choose.”

Albie sighed. “You’re very bossy. Are you sure you’re not the one in charge around here?”

Percy put the pile of plates in the kitchen and sighed. “Sorry, I... I forget my place.”

Albie was suddenly behind him, and he pressed a soft kiss to the back of Percy’s neck.

It made his knees weak.

“Don’t be sorry. I like it. I find it endearing. You’re like a baby fox. You think you’re fierce but...” He kissed the same spot again and Percy shivered. “You’re really just a small, innocent?—”

Percy turned around and met him with a hard glare. “I’m not small.”

Albie smiled, his eyes on Percy’s lips. So close, their bodies almost touching. “You’re small and fierce.”

Percy shoved his shoulder, putting some distance between them. “You’re enjoying this. You tease me on purpose, for no other reason than to make me mad.”

“I like it when your attention is on me,” he said.

Percy glowered at him. “Go clear the table and you’ll have my attention. Fetch the boiling water from the stove and you’ll have my attention. Go and get your books and you’ll have my attention. Leave me to finish my work and you’ll?—”

“Okay, okay,” Albie said, putting his hands up in surrender. But he smiled as if he still found him amusing.

“A baby fox,” he mumbled to himself. “I am not a baby fox. Of all the insulting things.”

“What was that, sorry?” Albie stood by the door, holding a tray of tableware.

“Nothing,” Percy said sharply.

Albie slid the tray onto the counter, then without warning, he ran his hand along Percy’s jaw, lifted his face, and kissed him. “And now you look like a baby rabbit, with your big eyes, all wide and scared.”

Percy gave him another shove.

Albie simply grinned as if this was the most fun he’d had in a long time. “And there’s the baby fox again.”

Percy wasn’t even going to dignify that with a response. He simply turned around to fetch the pot of boiling water from the stove. Only when he went to lift it, a splash of water caught his hand and he yelped.

Albie was right there, alarmed, frantic even, pulling him from the stove and holding his arm, inspecting his hand, his wrist. “Are you hurt? Where did it get you?”

It took a second for Percy’s heart to stop hammering for him to realise there was no pain, no burn mark. “No, it just startled me. I’m fine.”

Albie let out a sigh of relief and Percy liked that Albie was so concerned that he came to his rescue. Despite the fox and bunny comments just a moment before.

“I’m sorry,” Albie said. “This is my fault. I was caught up in playing this silly game of prodding you for a reaction. I’m sorry, Percy. You could have been seriously hurt, and I know better.”

Percy rubbed his wrist. It was just a few small spots, nothing at all, really. “Well, I’m glad you learned your lesson. Now, go get your books set up at the table, and start reading. I’ll be out when I’m done.”

Albie relented a nod and left him this time, without a snide remark. He finished cleaning up, and by the time he was done, he was much calmer and even feeling a little remorseful.

While he didn’t appreciate the name-calling, he did appreciate his concern.

And his affection.

With his big hands and soft kisses to the back of Percy’s neck.

Who would have ever guessed a kiss to that spot on the back of his neck would near buckle his knees? Of all the places Percy dreamed of being kissed, that wasn’t one of them.

Until now.

It might very well go to the top of the list.

When he finished cleaning up, he took the lantern from the kitchen and found Albie at the table, reading out loud. Quiet and slow. He wore a look of concentration and frustration, but he was reading, nonetheless.

Percy pulled his seat out beside him, and Albie closed the book and pushed it away. “I’m done with that. Shall we try some numbers in the ledger?”

Percy gave him an encouraging nod. “Sure.”

So that’s what they did. Percy covered the total column and had Albie try and work out the sums to see if he could get the same answer his father had.

Albie was frustrated and embarrassed. “This is a waste of time,” he grumbled on the second attempt at one in particular.

“No, it’s not,” Percy offered gently. “You’re doing really well.”

“I have to count on my fingers,” he griped. “Like a child.”

“Now. You have to do that now. If you want to get better, you need to practice.”

Albie sulked, frowning at the ledger.

“Is it no different to me learning how to drove cattle?” Percy asked. “Do I not need to make allowances? I’ve never done that before, so you made me take Minnie. You made me listen and watch. How is that different?”

Albie’s eyes met his, and Percy could see Albie knew he was right.

“It’s no different to me and Des getting Bandit familiar with the cattle before we use him to muster, is it not?”

Albie sighed. “Right, fine. I get it.”

Percy patted Albie on the back. “So, use your fingers now if you have to. And let’s keep practising so eventually you won’t need to.”

Albie kept going with the sums, writing his working-outs down in a separate notebook. Percy kept his hand around Albie’s back, sitting a little side-on to him and their knees touching under the table.

Albie leaned in closer, and soon he wasn’t paying any attention to the numbers on the page. His eyes drew up Percy’s arm, slowly, to reach his eyes, his face closer than necessary. “I think I’ve had enough books for tonight,” he murmured.

The low rumble of his voice, the dark desire in his eyes made Percy’s blood run hot and his belly tightened.

He pulled back. “Right, yes. Well then.” He straightened the books. “We should call it a night.”

Albie’s hand on his leg stopped him, burning through his trousers. Percy knew what he wanted, and for some reason he couldn’t name, it frightened him.

Percy wanted it, yes.

But was he ready?

He wasn’t sure how such things between men would work, and he was scared to find out. No matter how much he yearned for Albie’s touch, his kiss.

Oh, how he wanted him.

But there was a voice in his mind that told him to wait.

“I should leave you to finish up,” Percy said quietly, and he stood. “Thank you for this evening. Are you making breakfast? I think Robert and Des would appreciate me not on porridge duty. Perhaps I can get up early and set some rabbit traps.” That was a good idea. He could do that before sunrise. With a new plan in his mind, Percy nodded again. “Good night, Albie.”

Before he could get too far, Albie stood up. “Percy, wait.”

He stopped, too scared to turn around.

“I won’t force you to do anything you don’t want to do,” he said. “I can see you’re reluctant, scared, perhaps. I need you to know it’s fine. I will wait for your permission.”

Percy’s heart hammered painfully against his ribs. He couldn’t speak, not even if he knew what to say. So instead, he gave another nod and somehow got his feet to move. He went into his room and closed the door, leaning against it, breathing as if he’d run a hundred-yard dash.

His mouth was so dry, his palms were sweating, and he listened for Albie’s approaching footsteps.

He heard nothing.

He stripped to his undergarments and climbed into his bed. Albie’s old bed. It smelled of him, and the silence was blissful, though he swore the sound of his own heartbeat filled the room.

And he waited for his door to crack open.

He waited for Albie to perhaps knock or to speak through the door. He waited for shadows under the door to appear, for Albie to want to explore this newfound temptation.

He never did.

So instead of the sound of Des and Robert snoring, this night Percy fell asleep to the sound of disappointment and regret warring with longing and desire in his mind, in his heart.

* * *

The next morning,he overslept. He couldn’t believe he’d slept so late. He rushed out, pulling his boots on, to find Albie stirring a pot of porridge.

“Morning,” Albie said.

“I was going to do things this morning,” Percy said. “I’d intended to be gone and back by now. I can’t believe the time.”

“Yes, good morning to you too, Albie. Thanks so much for asking.”

Percy stopped. “Oh. Sorry. Yes, good morning. Sorry, I, uh...”

“You must have needed the sleep,” Albie said, smiling at the oats he was stirring. “I take it you slept well.”

“Eventually, yes.”

Albie’s eyes met his. “Eventually?”

Darn it.

He winced. “Uh, yes, it must have been the silence. Took some getting used to.”

Albie smiled, stirring the porridge. “If you wanted to make some bread, I’m sure it will go over well with the men.”

Yes. Work, Percy. Work.

“Of course. Should I go check on the calf in the barn? The horses? I haven’t collected the eggs yet. I was going to have set rabbit traps by now. I’m behind already and the sun’s not even up yet.”

“Percy, it’s fine,” Albie said. “You and I can go set some rabbit traps after breakfast. Maybe shoot a wallaby or something.”

“Okay.” He nodded. He wanted to say something... to mention last night. To apologise.

Albie gave him a smile. “Damper?”

“Right. Yes.” He rushed to get it started and they stood next to each other, moved around each other in the small kitchen, but Albie never once touched him. Never pressed him against the shelf or lifted his chin to kiss him. Never even looked to consider it.

And Percy had never wanted it more.

He ached for it. His skin remembered how it felt to be caressed. His lips recalled the press of Albie’s mouth, his hands, his arousal...

Even when they sat at the table. Albie’s knee never once bumped his. And when they set off with rabbit traps and a rifle, and later that night at supper time and when they did more reading, sitting close and almost touching.

Albie never did.

He never mentioned it, and he never instigated it.

And the next day.

And the day after that.

And the days that followed.

Percy thought he might catch fire if Albie didn’t touch him soon, and he didn’t have the bravery to touch him first.

I’ll wait for your permission.

That’s what Albie had said.

Which meant Percy was going to have to say something. Do something.

And even though he often felt the heat of Albie’s gaze lingering, it wasn’t the same.

It wasn’t enough.

Percy needed more.

For almost a week, he burned for it, until he couldn’t stand it a moment longer.

It was before supper, and he and Albie were getting dinner ready while Des and Robert finished up with the horses. It’s now or never, Percy thought.

Say something.

Say it now.

“Albie,” he whispered, his mouth suddenly too dry to speak.

Albie looked at him, waiting. “Yes?”

His breath left him in a rush, and his heart was squeezing painfully. He felt lightheaded, and for the life of him, he didn’t know how Albie had said all those forthright things to him without dying.

Albie was concerned now. He put the tray down. “What is it?”

Percy felt the need to laugh, which was bordering on hysteria, surely. “Uh. Before,” he said, breathless. “You said you wouldn’t pursue anything with me without my permission, so if you still want that, this is me saying you have it. My permission, that is. I don’t know what this feeling means, but it’s been seven days since you touched me and I feel I might go mad if you don’t soon.”

Albie’s smile was slow spreading. “Your permission, huh?”

Percy nodded. “Yes. If you want it. You have it. Not that you ever really needed it. You always had it. But I was scared, and truthfully, I still am, but the alternative is a fate worse than death. I kept waiting for you to knock on my door in the middle of the night, and I would fall asleep disappointed when you didn’t, and?—”

Albie did that thing where he put a fingertip to Percy’s chin and lifted his face. That very thing that made Percy’s heart stop and his knees weak.

“Do I have permission to come to your room tonight?”

Percy thought he might die on the spot. He nodded quickly, though all memory of how to breathe was long gone, and he leaned in, desperate for Albie’s kiss...

Until the sound of Robert running along the veranda with a loud knock on the door made them jump apart. “Albie,” he yelled. “We got company.”

Company?

They rushed to the door and sure enough, there was a wagon coming down toward the house. A single horse wagon, two people sitting up front.

Not just any people. Two women.

Was that...

Elsie?

Des was walking out to meet them as Percy followed Albie out onto the veranda.

It was indeed Elsie and Clara with a shawl pulled up over her hair, her head down.

Was she unwell?

Albie raced down the steps, Percy with him. And Robert too. Des met Elsie at the side of the wagon and helped her down, and Albie rushed to meet her.

“Elsie?” Albie asked. “What brings you here? Did something happen?”

“You said we’d be welcome should we need it,” she said. She glanced up to Clara who looked up then, and...

Oh no.

She had a fresh black eye and a swollen lip.

“Of course, yes, always,” Albie said, helping Elsie get Clara down from the wagon.

Elsie pulled Clara into her side, her arm protectively around her shoulder.

Albie fussed over Clara, not sure where or if he should touch her, helping her toward the house. “Des, Robert, please take care of the horse and wagon, and bring their things in. Percy, set two more seats at the table.”

Percy nodded and dashed up to hold the door for them. “I’ll make some fresh tea.”

Albie sat Clara by the fire, his eyes meeting Elsie. “Who’s responsible for this?”

“Williams,” she replied.

“That no-good bastard,” Albie seethed. Then he seemed to remember his temper.

“He tried to...” Elsie winced. Then she sat beside Clara and brushed her hair from her forehead, ever so gently. Tenderly, full of love. “He tore her dress and he almost had his way with her, but she fought him hard. That’s my girl,” she said quietly. Then she looked up at Albie. “We left first thing this morning.”

“Good,” Albie said.

Percy came back with a cup of hot tea for Clara, and she took it with a sad smile. Percy quickly produced another cup for Elsie, but when he brought over a basin of clean water, Elsie put her tea down and took the basin and washcloth. “Thank you, Percy.”

He stood back, next to Albie, unsure of what to do next. The way Elsie tended to Clara seemed personal, as if he was invading a private moment. He felt the need to look away.

It didn’t help that Clara looked so desperately sad and bruised and sore. She’d always been shy and quiet, from the time Percy had spent in town at the hotel and saloon, but she was always kind to him.

It was then Percy noticed her torn dress and Albie seemed to notice at the same time because he growled. “Someone needs to teach that Williams a lesson,” he hissed.

Percy grabbed Albie’s arm at the same time Elsie said, “Not today, he doesn’t. And not from you. He’ll get what’s coming, but not today.”

Albie grumbled under his breath, and Elsie looked up at him and smiled. Percy dropped Albie’s arm but not before Elsie saw. “He’ll get what he’s owed, don’t you worry,” she said. “The likes of men such as him always do.”

“Not often enough,” Albie said. Then he looked again at Clara and sighed. “Sorry.”

“I should set the table,” Percy said, remembering.

Elsie put her hand up to stop him. “If it’s not too much trouble, I’d rather we didn’t eat with company tonight. I don’t mean to offend, and your generosity is already too much, but perhaps Clara could have something to eat away from the scrutiny. Some privacy, if that suits you, Albie. I don’t know what you have in way of accommodations. We’ll take whatever you can spare.”

“My room,” Percy volunteered.

“No,” Elsie said quickly. “We couldn’t do that.”

“I insist,” Percy said. “Let me clear you some room for your things.”

He didn’t want to move back into the bunkhouse, but he certainly didn’t expect Elsie and Clara to share with Des and Robert. As he shoved his few things into his rucksack, he reminded himself of worse places he’d slept.

And Clara needed this more than he did, so it was only right.

Albie was soon beside him, helping him pack his things, and when the drawer was empty, he took Percy’s rucksack and walked it into his bedroom.

“What are you doing?” Percy whispered, following him in.

Albie spun to face him and there was a different look in his eyes now. Something Percy hadn’t seen before. A determination, but also a fierceness and an authority that made Percy’s belly tighten.

“If I cannot come to your room tonight, then you shall come to mine.”

“But the others?—”

“I don’t care. Des and Robert don’t need to know, and I’m certain Elsie and Clara are to each other as you are to me.”

Percy’s belly swooped. “Oh. Really?”

He had noticed that they were close, affectionate even, but he never realised... he never thought... “Oh. And what am I to you, Albie?” he whispered.

Percy didn’t know what possessed him to ask that, to be so bold to ask such a thing.

Albie softly tapped his finger to Percy’s chin, briefly, perfectly.

“You are everything to me.”

A quiet knock on the front door made them both turn, and Albie darted out of the room, Percy following.

It was Des and Robert, bringing in the items from the cart. “Sorry to interrupt,” Des said. “Thought you might like your belongings.”

Clara turned toward the fire, hiding her face, and Elsie gave her a squeeze before standing up. “Thank you so much. I do appreciate it.”

She picked up one sack, weighing a few pounds at least, and handed it to Albie. “I have little money, but hopefully this will help.”

Albie looked inside, then he looked at her. “What is this?” He put the sack on the table and pulled out smaller paper envelopes. Many of them. He opened the fold on one and inspected its contents, giving it a shake. “Seeds?”

She gave a nod. “All kinds. Mostly vegetables, some fruit trees, I believe. The names are written on them. Enough to plant an orchard, I’d reckon.”

He rifled through the sack, his eyes wide, before smiling at her. “How did you get these?”

She shrugged. “The saloon acquires payment in all kinds. I considered it compensation in lieu of wages. Old man Doyle owed me more than this, and I told him I was taking it. He weren’t game to argue.”

Albie snorted, and Percy smiled. He really did like Elsie. She had more fortitude than half the men he knew.

“There’s some oats and sugar too,” she added. “Now, those he didn’t know about, but they’ll be eaten before he realises. If he realises at all.” She looked at Albie, serious now. “We come with little else, but I promise we’ll earn our keep. We’ll cook and clean, and tend the vegetable garden, and keep the house. We’ll be no bother at all, and you won’t hear a peep of trouble, I swear it.”

Albie put his hand on her arm. “I told you before, you’re welcome here. You’ll be safe here; you have my word. Now let’s take your things to your room.”

Percy carried the old port case to the bedroom and sat it at the foot of the bed.

“There’s only a single bed,” Albie noted. “I trust that’s suitable?”

Elsie’s eyes met his and she gave a nod.

It was an admission, an understanding, and it made Percy’s belly tighten, and for some reason his cheeks felt warm.

I’m certain Elsie and Clara are to each other as you are to me.

That’s what Albie had said, and Percy was sure Albie was right.

Then Albie cleared his throat, and he glanced to the door across the hall, to his bedroom. He straightened his back and kept his eyes down. “My room,” he said. “Which Percy will share with me.”

Percy’s eyes almost popped out of his head and he gasped, horrified. Oh my word, Albie... “Des and Robert snore too bad,” he said quickly. “I couldn’t catch a wink of sleep, so I took this room but now it’s yours and I?—”

Elsie clapped him on the side of his arm. “No need to explain.”

But there was.

There had to be.

He couldn’t believe Albie would admit to such a thing. Regardless if Elsie and Clara were involved, Albie had no right...

“Excuse me,” Percy said, dashing out of the room.

He went to the kitchen and finished pummelling the damper dough. He was mad now, livid, and betrayed. A moment later, Albie came into the kitchen and stood there, watching, waiting...

Percy pummelled the dough some more, glaring at him. “How could you say such a thing?”

“She’s going to know,” he murmured. “They’ll be across the hall. They will know we share a room.”

“Perhaps I should go back to the bunkhouse. You know what? Maybe I will.” Percy threw some flour into the cast-iron pot, then threw the dough in on top of it.

Albie gave him a smirk and stepped in behind him, far too close. He hummed and pressed his lips to the back of Percy’s neck, to that one spot that made Percy weak.

“My little fox,” he said.

Percy spun to face him, anger flaring in his blood. “I am not.”

Albie’s smirk became a grin, and he stepped in and pushed Percy against the shelf, their fronts pressed together. He could feel Albie’s hardness and it stole his breath, made his knees buckle.

“You won’t go to the bunkhouse. You will share my bed tonight,” Albie whispered. “And every night after this.”

Then he stepped back and walked out, the front door closing behind him. Percy had to put his hands on his knees; trying to breathe at all was a chore. His head was spinning, and he had a certain ache in his groin he found difficult to ignore.

Part of Percy wanted to move back into the bunkhouse to prove a point. To tell Albie he was not in charge of him like that.

But a bigger part of him wanted to find himself in Albie’s bed, in his arms. And that bigger part was always going to win. His body wouldn’t allow himself to be denied. He ached at the mere thought of it.

So yes, tonight he would share Albie’s bed.

And come tomorrow, he’d be a changed man. He’d be taken and had in every unimaginable way, and heaven help him... he couldn’t wait.

He had to somehow get through dinner first. And with company, no less. Des and Robert ate in silence, the two women were in their room, and their absence was notable.

Des looked back to the hall every so often. Eventually, he spoke, voice quiet. “Is... is she okay?”

“She will be,” Albie said. “They’ll stay in the house,” he added. No explanation, no justification. He said it like the boss, and it was taken as such. Though Percy shovelled in his food so he didn’t feel obliged to bring up the subject of room sharing. Albie, thankfully, didn’t either.

“The wagon’s in good order,” Des said. “Their horse is poor, though. She’ll do well with some proper feed.”

“And Elsie said they’ll cook,” Robert added, excited. Then he winced. “Not that I don’t appreciate your cooking, Albie.”

Albie laughed. “For a man that’s never cooked a meal in his life, you have such strong opinions on my food. Did you want to cook one night and see how you fare?”

Robert made a face and ducked his head. “Ah, no. I don’t think that’d be fair on anyone, least of all the rabbit that gave its life for the meal.”

Albie was still smiling. “But I do agree. Not having to worry about cooking means I can spend more time working the farm, and hope to bring in more money.”

With two more mouths to feed, he’d need to, Percy thought. Though he didn’t say it out loud. It seemed he didn’t have to. Everyone nodded and went back to eating.

But then dinner was done and cleared away. Des and Robert had gone back to their quarters, and Elsie had declared goodnight and promised to be up to cook breakfast first thing.

Then it was just Percy and Albie, and only the fire and one lantern for light. Percy could have sworn the house felt smaller, hotter, and the air seemed thicker. He knew they’d be heading to bed soon and what that meant.

His nerves were strung tight; anticipation and a mix of fear were pooling deep in his belly. He wanted it so badly, yet he also wanted to delay it. Put it off, maybe.

Was he ready for this?

Albie fixed the fire and with a knot in his belly, Percy took his books and set them on the table, first ledger open. “Ready when you are,” he said.

Albie looked at the books, then at Percy. His eyes were dark and dangerous, full of desire. “I’m ready,” he murmured. He strode to the table and closed the book. He collected the lantern and then took Percy’s hand and led him to their room.

Percy’s feet felt heavy, his legs trembled, and he wasn’t sure they’d carry him. His heart thumped so erratically, painfully almost, so nervous he felt a little ill.

Albie set the lantern on the dresser, closed the door, and turned the key with a quiet snick. The sound made Percy gasp and Albie smiled. He came over to him, gently running the back of his finger down Percy’s cheek.

“You look scared, little fox,” he murmured.

Why did being called that now feel so different to before?

Why did he not care? Why did he like it?

“I am,” Percy admitted.

“Do you want this?” Albie asked.

Percy nodded.

And Albie’s smile in the dark room was a lifeline. Safe harbour and protection, and Percy’s fear ebbed away.

“We’ve not done this before,” Albie said. “So I can only go by what feels right.”

Percy nodded again.

Albie cupped Percy’s face with one hand, bringing him in for a kiss. Open mouths and hot breaths, their bodies almost touching, and when Percy slid his arms around Albie’s lower back and pulled him closer, their bodies pressed tight, hardness against hardness, and Albie groaned into Percy’s mouth.

Percy almost withered to the floor, but Albie held him strong and walked him backwards to the bed. He slid Percy’s suspenders from his shoulders, then unbuttoned Percy’s shirt and let it fall away before he pulled his undershirt over his head. Percy wanted to help Albie with his own shirt, but his fingers trembled too much. Albie made short work of it, tossing the fabric to the floor. Then he studied Percy’s naked torso, skimming his hand over his chest, up to his neck, before he took his face in both hands and crashed their mouths together.

Open lips, tongues entwined, and Percy’s skin felt as if he was too close to a fire. Burning hot and yet not hot enough.

Albie pushed him back and laid him down on the bed, kissing him as he did, and finally—finally—pressing their bodies together.

The weight of him was divine, taking Albie’s tongue in his mouth, and the press of Albie’s arousal against his own made Percy ravenous for more. He raked his hands down his back, feeling his lean, muscular body.

All man.

Albie was bigger than him, stronger, and Percy loved it. Having Albie in control of him was a need Percy didn’t even know he had.

He’d never wanted anything more.

His cock was hard, it felt so good, and he writhed for more. He was desperate for more. More contact, more pressure, more touch.

He needed more.

And then, as if Albie could read his mind, or perhaps he felt the same, he began to rock his hips, rubbing and grinding. And Percy followed his rhythm, in a dance they’d had no lessons for but their bodies seemed to know the moves.

It was passion and desire. Percy’s body ached and pleasure pooled low in his belly, and oh...

Oh, heaven help him, the pleasure was climbing, building, his cock now so hard, the pain was exquisite. Percy spread his legs wider, lifted them higher, and Albie’s cockhead pressed something lower and pleasure exploded inside him.

Percy gripped Albie’s backside and his back arched as his release hit him.

He’d never known a pleasure like it.

Albie shuddered and stiffened, his body jerking as he succumbed to it.

Percy swore he felt Albie’s cock pulsing, and it made him gasp.

He was boneless, panting, and clinging to Albie. He wanted to laugh and weep, and when he shivered, Albie rolled them onto their sides, and he wrapped his arms tight around him.

“Are you... are you cold?”

Percy shook his head, unable to stop the giggle. “Far from it. I think I may catch fire.”

Albie pulled back then so he could look into Percy’s eyes. He pressed his palm to his cheek. “I never imagined this,” he whispered. “Not in my wildest dreams.”

Percy smiled at him, sleepy now. He waited for regret to creep in or the echo of his childhood priest’s sermons on sin...

But it never came.

As he lay there in Albie’s arms, feeling safe and loved, he couldn’t imagine how this was ever wrong.

When nothing in Percy’s life had ever felt so right.

“In my dreams,” Percy murmured, barely able to keep his eyes open, “this is where I belong. Promise me something, Albie.”

Albie pulled the blankets over them, tightened his arms around him, and kissed the side of his head. “Anything.”

“If I’m dreaming,” Percy mumbled, “don’t ever wake me.”