Page 16 of Marked Out with Greater Brightness

He said, “Were you two watching me sleep?”

“Yes,” Ash said, unrepentant. “Entirely handsome.”

Cam snorted.

“I was thinking,” Blake said. “I’ve been planning to sell the townhouse—I mean Wildborough House, not our place. It’s awful and I don’t necessarily want it in my name.”

“Aye,” Cam said, not entirely sure where this was going, but here if Blake needed support, “d’you want me to deal with it, then? Talk to your solicitor?”

“Actually I was thinking…” Blake took a deep breath, let it out. “It’s complicated—it is a family house, even if my father sold it off the first time. It means…something. And you could use someplace to see patients, couldn’t you? Of course you’re living with us, you’re officially Ash’s physician, but if you’re helping other people, as well.”

Cam’s mouth moved. He wasn’t even sure of the word.

“Don’t look at me,” Ash said, “this one’s news to me too. But I think it’s a good idea.”

“I’ll give it to you,” Blake said to Cam. “Or sell it, if you’d rather, for some ridiculously cheap amount, as long as you fuck me like that again. We don’t have to put that part in the legal documents.”

Cam’s mouth was still open. He managed, “You want to give me your house.”

“Not to live in,” Blake said. “We’re all living together, anyway. I don’t want that house, but I do want to do something worthwhile with it, and you’ll know what to do. It’ll be yours, to set up however you’d like.” He paused. Flashed that dazzling sparkle of mischief. “I’ll still do all our accounts. I’m good at that.”

Property. His own. Expensive. In his name, not a lease or a borrowed set of rooms.

A place he could turn into something good, something useful. To build upon, taking an old heartache that pained a man he loved, and changing it. Transmutations, into gold.

They’d live together, come home together, of course; that was not in question. But this would be more: another space for them, a reclamation. A happy ending, for that story.

He wondered whether Mrs Burke and young James would like to come down. To help out. He might need a staff, a housekeeper, an assistant. He’d certainly have the space.

He could decorate. Getting rid of the tasteless rebellious statues and nude art pieces, which Blake would not mind—and indeed Cam would handle that, so Blake would not have to be reminded. He could pick out shades of green and gold. He could put up Blake’s sketches.

He could do some research, some investigations, into infectious tropical diseases. He’d meant to do that, using Blake’s journals and notes. He could look into those experiments with iron infusions—

He looked at Ashley’s smile, at Blake’s hopeful expression. He thought that, in five short days, the rest of this fortnight, they’d be on the way back to London. Toward home.

He said, “Of course you’re doing our accounts, you’re the best at that,” and nudged Blake with a knee. “I’m thinking I’ll take you up on that. Once we’re back. And tonight, tomorrow…” He waited, let the anticipation stretch. “You’re good at lists and inventories and organization, too. You can both help me finish up here, with the packing-up.”

Blake put his head on Cam’s shoulder; his fingers traced a heart across Cam’s stomach, a shape over bare skin. Ashley, smiling at them both, said, “Yes, we can.”

THE END