Impractical Page 6

  "Kirian," Evelyn murmured, eyes sliding to Terrell. "Mr. Wingard, I read the announcement in the papers this morning. Congratulations on your engagement."

  "Thank you," Terrell replied, mouth quirking. "Congratulations on your marriage, and good luck."

  "Do be quiet," Kirian replied, no heat in the words. Turning back to Evelyn, he asked, "Would you like to join us for breakfast?"

  "Thank you, but I've dined. I was coming to find you, however, to be certain you knew that Professor Grayson had called off his classes for the week. He has left a good pile of work for us to complete during his absence. A family matter, of some sort; no details were left."

  Kirian nodded. "I am sorry for the reason, but not sorry to be free of that curmudgeon for the week. In that case, I believe I shall indulge myself today. Care to come along, anyone?"

  "Oh, no," Terrell replied. "I have plenty of more practical ways of spending my time than tromping about the city with you, getting into even the gods cannot predict what kind of trouble. Take your new spouse and terrorize him with your antics."

  Laughing, Kirian looked at Evelyn, using every bit of the little charm he possessed. "What say you, my dear? Care to run away to the city and play with me for a day?"

  "I have studying—"

  "That is not an adequate protest," Kirian said, taking Evelyn's arm and guiding him from the room. He tossed a farewell smile and wave over his shoulder to a far too amused-looking Terrell.

  Damn it, he would win Evelyn over. He didn't know why it mattered so much, only that it did. Kirian wanted the man in the letters written to Frederick; he wanted to banish the sadness…and gods above, he wanted what he had seen that morning.

  Outside, Kirian turned them down the road headed toward Orchid Row. "Kirian—" Evelyn drew to a halt, forcing Kirian to stop as well. "I have work. You have work. What is all this nonsense?"

  Kirian moved into his personal space, forcing Evelyn back until he collided with the brick wall of the building they were alongside. "I am attempting to spend a pleasant day with the man I am so enamored of I married him in a moment. Unless you would prefer to spend the day in a musty library, rather than museums and parks and an utterly delightful coffeehouse?" He loved the way Evelyn always smelled like apples and cinnamon, that delightful hint of clove.

  Evelyn only frowned at him. "I don't understand you."

  "Few do," Kirian said.

  "You were against this, same as me. This entire debacle is only that: a debacle. A farce. So why do you persist in treating it like it is real?"

  Kirian drew back slightly and looked up at Evelyn, brushing a loose strand of reddish hair from his cheek. "My mother made me participate in this church play, once. I hated going there; everyone was stiff and formal and never seemed to smile. I went kicking and screaming the whole time, and wanted no part in that damnable play. But my mother made me and that was that. I spent the first week doing only what I was told, going begrudgingly along, treating it exactly like the punishment I thought it to be. But that was exhausting and my mother pointed out that by acting that way, I was only making it all the worse for myself. I was in the play; that was decided and there was nothing to be done about it. So I could continue to punish only myself for it or simply concede defeat, try to have fun, and enjoy myself until it was over. I tried it the way she suggested and I did have fun while I was there—and afterwards, I never did another one of those stupid plays."

  Evelyn pursed his lips, light eyes pensive as they met Kirian's. "So I am a church play?" he finally asked, voice dry but a trifle hurt.

  "No," Kirian said. "That place smelled like bad incense and mothballs." He stepped in close again, pressing his nose to Evelyn's hair and smiling faintly at the way Evelyn stiffened at such behavior. "You smell wonderful, like spiced apples." He drew back slightly, and then continued, "Our marriage is what we have been forced into and there is nothing to be done about that. I refuse to let other people make me miserable if it is within my power not to be. People call me brash, foolish, and even dangerous, my dear, but no one has ever accused me of being stupid. Even a half-wit would look at you and be able to think of several delightful ways to pass the next three years in your company."

  "You—" Evelyn broke off and frowned, but Kirian did not miss the flash in his eyes, that flicker of want. But then it was replaced by ice, a bitter, cynical twist to his pretty mouth. "Or maybe you just found it useful to be married to a Duke's son."

  Kirian drew back, feeling as though he'd been slapped; then his anger flared. "I don't need your bloody money or nobility. I didn't want to be married to you at all. If you'd rather spend the next few years as miserable strangers, fine. I will not be accused of seducing you for money and power. To hell with you."

  He pushed away and stalked off down the road, shoving his hands into his pockets. His ears burned with anger and shame; he didn't need money and he didn't bloody care about titles. He just wanted someone to want him. Was that so much to ask?

  Someone grabbed him and Kirian jerked away with a snarl, whipping around and bringing his fists up—then froze, surprised to see Evelyn. "What?" he snapped, still sorely tempted to punch him and see that icy demeanor crack since it refused to thaw.

  "I'm sorry," Evelyn replied. "You are correct; it is far better to make the best of things."

  Kirian sighed. "Yet you still sound as though you are being punished. I guess I am not exactly anyone's prize husband, though, am I?" He smiled tightly, not caring how bitter he appeared. "Truly, I am surprised your father permitted it."

  "My father grew tired of me a long time ago," Evelyn murmured, voice level enough; but Kirian had been painfully attuned to every nuance of him since his decision to—well, to win Evelyn, he supposed. Honestly, how did he get himself into these situations? "That aside, you are not a prize, no—not in the money and title sense. But you're smart and clearly have some money to your name. You work hard, you do not indulge in gambling or too much drink. You have goals. You're beautiful. If you would only learn to curb your temper, there are plenty who would consider you a prize, and a bit of scandal in your past never actually hurts anything."

  "Beautiful?" Kirian echoed, taken aback. He was many things, most of them bad, but beautiful was not on the very short list of his positive qualities.

  Surprise fractured the cool, composed lines of Evelyn's face. "Well, of course. You must be aware of your own appearance."

  "I'm not beautiful," Kirian said flatly.

  "Yet half the rumors surrounding you are about that very beauty and how you flash it about to tease people, right before you punch them or shoot at them."

  "I don't start fights," Kirian snapped. "Everyone challenges me and no one has ever challenged me for being too pretty."

  Of all the things he expected Evelyn to say in reply, the sudden laughter had never occurred to Kirian. But that is precisely what Evelyn did—threw his head back and laughed. "You don't know!" Evelyn eventually managed. "You're an eye-catcher and no mistake, and you do not even know it!"

  Ears burning, Kirian shoved him back and stormed off. He wasn't beautiful; if he was, he might have had an easier time with it. So much for an enjoyable day skiving off studying. He'd had such sudden high hopes for a day of shameless flirting and wooing—only first to be turned down cold as a fortune hunter and now laughed at for apparently being too stupid to know the measure of his own looks.

  He threw himself into the road, dodging traffic, before reaching the walk on the other side and then ducking into an alleyway. He cut through it to the street on the far side, then down a bit to his favorite bookshop. Safe within its walls, Kirian went to his favorite corner and simply hid there. Could he not do anything right? Not a full two weeks into his marriage and already he had ruined it and made an absolute fool of himself. What had he been thinking anyway, so impulsively deciding he should convince Evelyn that they could be a true, permanent match? He had wanted to marry someone he loved, not someone who made him jealous of himself. Truly, he w
as his own worst enemy.

  Restless and irritable, Kirian began to rifle through the shelves of books, yanking them down and looking at them, only to shove them back on the shelves and move on to others. He wanted to be walking along the paths of the park, making Evelyn laugh over silly stories; he wanted to be in the royal museum, seeing if they agreed on various points or if they would spend the entire time bickering delightfully. He wanted to take Evelyn to his favorite coffeehouse and sit a bit too close, then drag him back to the room and show him that he was good for more than poetry and dueling.

  Instead, he was hiding in a bookshop, replaying and cringing over the way Evelyn had assured him he was a prize, and then laughed at his stupid ignorance. Honestly, he had fought more duels than he could count and no doubt would fight many more. Why was he so good at violence, yet so terrible at everything else? Sometimes, he wasn't even certain why Terrell continued to endure him.

  Thinking of Terrell made Kirian smile briefly. He hoped Terrell was faring better in his own romance than Kirian—not that it would be hard to do better than Kirian, since he wasn't certain it was possible to do worse.

  Seeing as his hopes for the day had been thoroughly dashed, it would be wisest to retreat to the library and study as he should have done in the beginning—but the idea held no appeal and studying at that point would be all but superfluous. He was ready for his finals, his papers were written and lacked only a final rewrite for the sake of neatness and last minute tweaking, and he no longer had future terms for which to prepare. This time next year he would …

  Well, Kirian wasn't sure. Ideally he would be part of the Literary Tour, traveling hand in hand with …with his husband, he realized. He'd always pictured the Tour as a group of like-minded people who would ideally become his friends over time. Away from school, immersed in what they all loved, surely friends could be found. Now he just pictured seeing everything, doing everything with Evelyn, who seemed to think him either a fortune hunter or a halfwit. Kirian fought a sudden desire to beat his head against the heavy wooden shelves until pain sent him to blissful oblivion. What in the world was wrong with him? It was like he had lost his bloody mind.

  Heaving a sigh, Kirian shoved another book back into its place on the shelf, then turned, intent on finding something better with which to occupy his time. Moping over a husband who by all rights never should have been his would get him nowhere, and even he was smart enough to know that.

  Unfortunately, if he was going to go to the library, he would first have to return to his room and fetch his books and papers. Maybe Evelyn was still out and he could slip in, collect his things, and slip away again.

  Given he had very little choice but to try it, Kirian sighed and left the sanctuary of his bookshop, trudging slowly to the apartment he shared with Evelyn. He unlocked the door and pushed it open, removing his hat and setting it aside before he strode—

  —And jumped as the door slammed shut behind him, causing him to whirl around in surprise. He stopped when he saw who it was, stifling a sigh. "Evelyn."

  Evelyn crossed his arms across his chest and leaned against the door, so icy in demeanor that Kirian half-thought he would snap and crackle when he moved. "Do you always deal with your problems by shooting them or running from them?"

  "Only when people are threatening me or laughing at me," Kirian snapped back.

  "I wasn't laughing at you," Evelyn replied.

  Kirian sneered. "I don't see who or what else about the situation merited laughter."

  "I was surprised. Everyone talks about how arrogant and cocky you are, how you think you can get away with everything because you're beautiful and smart and good with a gun. I don't believe even half of what I hear, but it never occurred to me you wouldn't know how you look. I didn't mean for you to think I was laughing at you. I was laughing at how wrong everyone has it."

  Not certain what to say to that, Kirian only frowned.

  Evelyn seemed to slump a bit, although his demeanor did not otherwise change. "So are we to remain at odds? I am trying to apologize."

  "I didn't know that's what people said about me," Kirian replied. "It's absurd."

  To his surprise, Evelyn smiled. "Most of what people say is stupid. As I said, I dismissed all of it. People who purposely go about getting guns aimed at their head deserve what their stupidity gains them. But you are beautiful and I am baffled as to how you don't know it."

  Kirian shrugged, irritated and embarrassed. "What does it matter? Beauty is effectively useless without money to go with it."

  Evelyn frowned and opened his mouth—then just closed it again. After a moment, he said, "Are we still for gallivanting about the city, then? Or shall we do something else?" He hesitated, before adding, "Or would you prefer we simply go our separate ways?"

  "No!" Kirian exclaimed hastily. "I thought you—I meant what I said, about making the best of the situation for as long as it lasts." If he had anything to say about it, anything at all, it would last forever. But there was no point in scaring Evelyn off by saying that now. "You didn't seem…"

  "I was rude for no reason," Evelyn replied. "No one has ever accused you of fortune hunting, just spoiling for a fight. You were forced into this the same as I, and I should not have accused you of other motives."

  Kirian made a face. "It's those who seek me out who are spoiling for a fight."

  Evelyn nodded and Kirian realized he was thawing—slowly, but he bet the more time they spent together, the more of that ice would melt. He wanted to see that: Evelyn free of frost. He wanted very badly to see that. "I suppose I should endeavor to keep you otherwise occupied, else who knows what punishment Grayson will rain down upon me?"

  "So your spousal duty is to keep me sensible?" Kirian asked, wondering why that thought didn't annoy him anymore. "Am I supposed to make you insensible?"

  "Well, certainly I have never skipped studying to tromp around the city," Evelyn replied dryly, unfolding his arms and resting his hands lightly on his hips. "So I guess you are certainly having an adverse effect upon my behavior."

  "Not as adverse as I'd like," Kirian remarked before he could catch himself. He started to apologize, because his overtures hadn't gone over so well before, but Evelyn's reply caught him up short.

  "I was promised a coffeehouse of unsurpassed quality, as well as museums and a park—unless you are implying your husband is easy."

  Kirian chuckled and strode across the room, crowding Evelyn back up against the door. He leaned up so their mouths were only a space apart. "If you were easy, husband, you would not be married to me."

  "No, I suppose not," Evelyn returned, startling Kirian again with how easily he flirted back—and shocking him through to his marrow when he closed the space between them and stole a brief but firm kiss. After a moment, Evelyn pushed him away, cheeks faintly flushed and mouth curved in amused satisfaction—although as to what had satisfied him, Kirian honestly could not say. "Shall we start with the museums, then?"

  "As you wish," Kirian said, eyeing Evelyn thoughtfully and touching his tongue to his top lip. "You aren't really what the rumors say, either. All that ice rubs away like cheap face paint, so why wear it at all?"

  Evelyn shrugged, looking uncertain again. "I learned my lesson, you could say. Now go freshen up; that jacket won't do for the museums at all."

  Rolling his eyes, Kirian swept a deep bow and replied, "Yes, my lord. Care you to recommend one?"

  "That dark green velvet with the silver trim," Evelyn replied immediately, then snapped his mouth shut, clearly not having meant to respond.

  Kirian grinned, slow and hot, and it felt suddenly like they had known each other much longer than two weeks. "Dark green velvet it shall be, then." He strode off to his room to change, heart beating so fast in excitement and anticipation that he could scarcely contain it.

  Maybe, just maybe, he could win Evelyn after all.

  Five

  "You'll never get this paper past Professor Mortimer," Terrell stated, handing ba
ck Walter's draft. "Your thesis is poorly supported and you've cited only a dozen sources. I made some notes that will help, but it would be a more practical use of your time simply to start from scratch."

  Walter heaved a sigh. "You're worse than any professor, Terrell. Thank you for the help, though."

  Terrell nodded and went back to his own paper, ignoring the amused look he could feel on his back. He just knew the moment they were alone again that Kirian would tease him relentlessly. But honestly, why did people seek his opinion when he so rarely said what they clearly wanted to hear? He was not going to waste his time or theirs by lying.

  Terrell picked up his teacup and sighed as he realized it was empty—had been empty the past three times he had picked it up. Standing, he went over to the bell pull and tugged on it, then glanced over to the corner desk where Kirian was sitting in the little room they frequently used when they did not feel like crossing the campus to their own rooms.

  Terrell's mouth quirked in amusement when he saw Kirian was not even pretending to study any longer—he had his pencil and smaller sketchbook out, and was almost completely lost in whatever he was drawing.

  He looked up after a moment to grin at Terrell. "I would think they would leave off flirting by this point, given you never notice and now there's an engagement ring on your finger."

  "Flirting? Do not be ridiculous," Terrell said dismissively. "They would not come in here and present me with bad papers for editing in order to flirt."

  Kirian snorted, but said nothing.

  "So what are you drawing?" Terrell asked curiously. Kirian seldom drew outside the safety of their rooms—but then, he had been moved out for nearly a full month now, living with his husband. He still could not believe that Kirian had allowed himself to be forced into marriage. Terrell strode over to the desk, amused at Kirian's somewhat embarrassed shrug, then laughed. "You really are taken with him, aren't you?"