Page 32 of Loving The Warrior

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“You sketch?” It bothered Heath that he did not know this fact about Kane. “You never told me.” There was a hint of hurt in his voice.

Kane drew closer. “It’s just a pastime. When I was younger, I drew some pictures for the newspaper from time to time. It was the first time I earned my own money.”

“May I see your sketches?”

“Of course.” Kane sat on the couch and motioned for Heath to join him.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Heath walked over. He had forgotten about his cane, but he didn’t care as he limped over to Kane’s side. They each held a side of the portfolio and rested it on their laps. Their legs brushed against one another, making it difficult for Heath to focus on the pictures.

First were several landscapes. Some areas Heath could pick out as being from around the estate.

“You drew these from memory?” He looked at Kane in amazement.

“Yes. I’ve always had an excellent memory. One reason I’m a good teacher. I can remember a lot of facts.”

“They are wonderful.”

Heath paged through, finding some portraits. “Who is this?” The woman bore a strong resemblance to Kane.

“That’s my sister, Louisa.”

“You never told me about your family.” Suddenly it was the most important thing to Heath. He wanted to know more about the man.

Kane smiled. “There isn’t much to tell. My father and mother live in London. I have two younger sisters, Louisa and Constance.” He thumbed through the portraits until he found one of another young girl, this one with a headful of ringlets. “Lastly is my brother, Henry. He’s the baby.”

“You are the oldest?”

“Yes.”

“Did you grow up in London?”

“I’ve been there my whole life. I went to school, then started teaching right away. It’s why I took this position, to travel and see new places.”

“Do you like it here?” Heath’s mouth felt dry even after having his drink.

“I like it very much. I’m discovering there are many things to keep my attention.” Kane’s pupils seemed to grow larger.

Heath looked away, the growing pressure in his chest intensifying. How could one look do so much to him?

To occupy himself, Heath flipped through the remaining pictures and stopped when he came to one of him. It was a charcoal drawing. He was standing in the middle of a field with his chin pointed at a proud angle, his hands on his hips. There was no cane. His expression appeared confident, like he had nothing or anyone to fear.

“Is that how you see me?” He met Kane’s stare.

“Yes. I know you think your leg is a hindrance and that your lack of education makes you inadequate, but you are wrong.” Kane took Heath’s hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “You are so much more, Heath. You just need to see it yourself, like I do.”

A lump formed in Heath’s throat. No one had ever spoken so passionately to him. Never had anyone said they thought highly of him. A rush of emotion swept through Heath. His heart nearly pounded out of his chest from hearing the words. It made him lightheaded.

Before he could think it through, he rested his head on Kane’s shoulder. A second later, he felt the gentle reassuring pressure of Kane’s head on his. That was all, nothing more. Neither of them moved, simply enjoying the intimate moment.

It was enough to make Heath want to throw caution to the wind, wrap his arms around Kane, and see where the night would take them. For the first time in his life, Heath felt wanted, appreciated for who he truly was, and it was a wonderful sensation.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“For what?”

Heath raised his head. “For what you said.”

“I meant every word. You are a fine man, Heath.”


Tags: Laura Shipley Historical