Page 40 of The Housebreaker's Assistant
“The men at the table beside us earlier work for Dalhurst and Hammond,” he whispered, leaning close to Greer as he pulled back the bedcovers on the small, dubious bed.
Greer’s brow shot up. “How do you know?”
The suggestion that Greer didn’t entirely believe him had Penny’s back up in an instant. “Because they said the names Dalhurst and Hammond and talked about an unusual cargo that needed to be moved,” he grumbled, glaring at Greer.
Greer opened his mouth, like he would argue anyone could have the names Dalhurst or Hammond. He had enough sense to snap his mouth closed again and to let out a breath, shoulders sinking. “What did they say?” he asked.
“That time is wasting,” Penny said. “That someone named Underhill is waiting for Lord Fabian. That he needs to be moved soon.”
Greer’s expression turned serious at once.
Behind him, someone coughed on the other side of the wall, reminding the two of them they were surrounded by potential ears.
Greer glanced over his shoulder, then nodded for Penny to lie in the bed with him. Penny followed the suggestion, squirreling under the thin quilt and eventually plastering his body against Greer’s larger one.
They ended up in the perfect proximity for whispered conversations and plotting. It was the perfect position for other things, too, but none of that was going to happen when they were surrounded by strangers who were as likely to call the constable on them as not.
“We need to get the man out of there as quickly as possible,” Penny whispered, his face so close to Greer’s that he was certain Greer could feel his breath across his lips.
“That was always the case,” Greer said.
“Yes, but this means we will have no time at all to dilly-dally.”
Greer grinned. Penny could just see the flash in his eyes in the darkness. “Were you planning to dilly-dally?” he asked.
Penny couldn’t help himself. He reached a hand between the two of them and brushed it against Greer’s cock. It was soft, but didn’t stay that way. “I always have plans to dilly-dally,” he said in a low, honeyed voice.
Greer grunted, shifting in a way that was perhaps designed to move his body away from Penny’s touch, but actually pressed them closer together. “Not here,” he said.
“Obviously,” Penny murmured in return.
He and Greer stared at each other in the dark for a moment. The air felt suddenly thick. The heat between them pulsed hotter even than it had when they were both naked and frantic in Greer’s bed. It seemed impossible, but it was true. It was as if a seed had taken hold in the ground and started to grow. They were no longer two men who wanted pleasure from each other. Penny wanted more. He wanted Greer’s respect and confidence. He wanted all of him.
“We must do this thing tomorrow,” he whispered. “There’s no time to waste.”
“We cannot rush in without proper planning,” Greer told him, though Penny was certain he felt the urgency, too.
“And what if we have no time to plan?” Penny asked, shifting his hand to rest over Greer’s beating heart. “What if we can only rush in like fools and pray for the best?”
Greer was silent. He stared at Penny, at Penny’s lips, for so long Penny thought perhaps he hadn’t heard the question. They hadn’t even started, really, and they were already being distracted.
But then Greer said, “We must do what we can. Lord Fabian is depending on us.”
Something warm and captivating unfolded in Penny’s heart. They were about to rush headlong into danger that could potentially get them both killed, but Greer was willing to take the risk to rescue a man he didn’t know. It was not something just any man would do.
“We must do what we can,” Penny repeated. And he would do whatever he could to protect the man he was tumbling into love with from being hurt, too.
Chapter Twelve
It was a bad idea. All of it. Greer couldn’t even put his finger on what, precisely, he didn’t like about the situation he and Penny set out to get stuck in the following morning. It likely had something to do with the fact that they’d argued that morning.
“The best thing for it is to walk straight up to the castle and ask the questions that need asking,” Penny had said as they’d enjoyed a tasteless porridge and weak coffee for breakfast in the inn’s common room.
Greer had scoffed wordlessly, believing his companion to be joking.
“I mean it,” Penny had insisted. “No one learns anything in this life without asking directly.”
Greer had frowned, wondering if Penny’s dangerously carefree approach had anything to do with his mother’s wealthy patron who had appeased him with books. He’d thought that was a lucky twist of fate for Penny when the story had first been told, but now he wondered if it had given Penny a false sense of confidence.
