Mending Him by Bonnie Dee and Summer Devon

looked at him. “Big head?”
    “A morning-after headache,” Charles explained. “You’re not used to drinking at all.”
    “Nonsense. I’m fine.” Robbie slurred his esses like a music hall parody of a drunk.
    “Perhaps we should leave after you finish your drink. I hardly think Samuel will mind if he’s left to find his own way home.”
    They both looked over to the table where uproarious laughter erupted. One of the girls had sidled up close to Samuel and was whispering in his ear.
    “No, I don’t think Samuel will miss us at all,” Robbie agreed. “Whoo. I feel a little woozy. I suppose I wouldn’t mind some fresh air. I’ll get someone to help transport you to the cart and tell Shmamual…tell my cousin what we’re about.”
    He rose from his chair, swayed for a second and touched the edge of the table to steady himself, then Robbie moved with slow, stately steps across the room, relying heavily on his cane to keep him upright.
    It took him a moment to get Samuel’s attention. The young man was much more interested in what the pretty blonde had to say than in listening to his dreary cousin. At last he turned to Robbie with an expression of exasperation.
    The din of voices in the pub had grown so loud that Charles couldn’t hear the exchange, but a wave of Samuel’s hand let him know they were cavalierly dismissed. Good! He’d had more than enough of the boy’s company for one evening.
    It galled him that he couldn’t stand and walk to the cart under his own steam. Waiting to be carried like an infant was excruciating. Charles finished off his glass of India Pale Ale. A drop in the bucket, not remotely enough to fog his senses—unlike Robbie, who weaved his way back to Charles with a couple of hefty young lads in tow.
    In short order, they’d laced their hands and lifted him up, with an arm around their shoulders. The night breeze was a slap in the face after the overheated pub. Charles felt every sense alive with awareness as he settled onto the front seat of the pony trap beside Robbie.
    After thanking the young men, Robbie took the reins and clucked at the little pony to move it forward. The cart rattled over cobblestones in town and a rutted dirt road once they reached the village limits. Charles clung to the edge of the bench as the cart jostled over a particularly deep pit, sliding him even closer to Robbie. Their hips and thighs pressed together warmly.
    Charles glanced at Robbie’s profile, the high-bridged nose and strong chin, eyes on the road before them. They were alone out here on the country road. Completely alone, without any chance of a servant or cousin or anyone else interrupting them. It was all Charles could do not to put his hand on Robbie’s thigh, just to check his reaction. But he’d promised he wouldn’t push beyond friendship—not unless invited.
    Overhead, brilliant stars glittered in a velvet sky and a nearly full moon rose above the trees. Charles tipped his head back to study the stars, so beautiful and aloof and far above human weaknesses and tragedies, hopes and fears. He tilted his chin back down to say something along those lines to Robbie, only to find Robbie staring at him.
    He dropped the reins into his lap, giving the pony its head. The animal continued to plod forward while Robbie reached out, grasped the back of Charles’s neck and dragged him in for a kiss.
    Charles grunted in surprise. Explosions went off inside him. His lips burned. It was as if he’d never been kissed before, and it wasn’t as though Robbie had some great technique. His lips were a bit dry, his mouth closed and mashed bruisingly against Charles’s mouth, but the fact of that kiss, the desperate passion behind it, was thrilling.
    He’d dreamed of this for days but had begun to realize nothing was actually going to happen between them. Now here it was Robbie who’d gone berserk and was attacking him with kisses and holding him so tightly he could hardly breathe. Astonishing and