Page 101 of Dragon’s Ending

“I now have a diary,” Dominic informed me, with a self-importance belied by the sparkle in his eyes. “It has meetings in, God help me.”

I couldn’t help it. I stood up, pulled him in by the front of his shirt and kissed him thoroughly. I loved him. I loved seeing him happy.

“I’m sure there’s a rule somewhere about the archivist not being allowed to molest the help,” he said, when we finally parted.

“Help?” I queried. “I think to deserve that title, you’ll need to do something more than sit there looking pretty.”

“Harsh but true,” he agreed, sliding off the table. “Okay, we got a little sidetracked these last couple of days. What do you want me to do?”

“I need to be far more systematic than I have been,” I confessed.

Dominic looked alarmed. “Ben, no. Not systematic.”

“I’m serious.” I gestured towards the nearest pile of records. “I’m now going to work through the archive chronologically, and I’m refusing to be distracted by anything from a different period, no matter how interesting. I need to establish the family lines properly first, which means pulling together references from wills, court records, marriage settlements—anything that provides enough information to identify people and their relationships to one another with a degree of certainty.”

Dominic stared at me with deep suspicion. “You say court records like other people say passionate affair.”

“Because court records are useful.”

“God, you’re hot,” he said. “Come here and talk history to me.”

As though he needed to ask.

DOMINIC

Ben was sprawled half across me, warm and heavy and entirely too distracting. Every so often his fingers drifted absently over my chest as if he were mapping something there.

“You’re very quiet,” he observed eventually.

“That’s because I’m contemplating the horror of becoming respectable,” I told him.

His lips twitched. “You keep looking at that diary.”

I glanced again at where it sat on the bedside table. For reasons known only to himself, Rhodri used a paper diary. And he obviously expected me to.

“It’s ridiculous,” I said. “It’s literally just meetings.”

“But it means something.”

There was no pressure in the words. No attempt to force me into some kind of emotional discussion. Just Ben, quietly seeing far more than I usually wanted anyone to see of me.

“A handful of meetings and a diary don’t erase years of being treated like a disappointment,” I said finally.

Ben shifted slightly against me, making sure I knew he was there.

“No,” he said softly.

I hadn’t realised until then how badly I’d needed him to say that.

“But,” I admitted after a moment, “I can actually see a future now.”

His fingers stilled.

“One that isn’t entirely dependent on Rhodri waking up in a reasonable mood,” I added.

I was still to some extent subject to his whims. I knew that. This morning, he’d treated me like a puppy who needed training and who might, if left unsupervised, pee on the floor. It was a huge step up from how he’d always treated me before, but I wasn’t willing to put up with it indefinitely. Once I’d found my feet, things were going to change.

He could teach me. He could even tell me when I was being a muppet—and he undoubtedly would. Frequently. But sooner or later, we were going to have discussions rather than Rhodri making pronouncements. I’d make sure of it.