This admission reminded me of Therese and Claus’s request for me to introduce him to Duir. After I presented Seton with ale, we toasted and drank thirstily. Over my mug, I surveyed him. His reddish gold hair hung to his jaw in wavy disarray. His face resembled a statue I saw once in a large book of drawings. Seton’s shoulders were broad, and where Claus had been narrow, Seton was muscle-firm, a musician who could have been an athlete, or a fighter.
As I lowered my mug, I let my eyes fall and admired the solid muscles of his thighs, which his breeches, dark brown and obviously worn, stretched to contain.
Could humans create such a being? I mused, or had a divine hand drawn him with some indelible magic ink? Unforgettable magic and stone statues were all fiction to his handsome reality. In his presence, the sweet truth of casual kindness seemed enough to sustain me. He did not know my secrets, and in his eyes I saw nothing of suspicion, only wide-open expanse.
“Claus says you are a gifted musician.” I went about getting a wooden board and knife on which to place and cut the fruit.
“Good old Claus. He is an avid supporter of my music. How I wish it had been me who sought your help. It is a coward who has another man beg a favor from a stranger, but I found myself engaged in a private concert the day my brother visited you.”
I shrugged and prepared to begin cutting the fruit when Seton reached and took the knife from me, his hand brushing mine.
“Let me do the honor of serving you, and while you eat, I shall play in hopes of winning your favor.”
“It is not fair.” I relinquished the knife to him and sat across from him at the large wooden table Sylvain and I used to dine. “You ply me with food and music, two tempters of a man’s undoing!”
“I will undo what is so badly in need of undoing. A man is only a man, he is not divine, he is flawed.” He sliced open one of the large rosy peaches and the clear fluid of its flesh ran from the cut. He put his thumb to his mouth and licked it. “It tastes of its time in the sun.” He dug the stone from the severed half and handed the glistening fruit to me.
I took it from him and could smell the sweetness of the peach. My pulse quickened. A strange fluttering stirred my stomach. While I pondered the odd sensations of my physical and mental being, I ate the peach, and before I could make sense of anything, Seton began to play.
I was unsure if it were he playing the instrument or if Seton were merely a pawn in some musical dream brought forth from the depths of creation. The peach dropped from my hand and made no sound. All noise had been sucked away and hidden behind the notes plucked from the lute.
Seton leaned back so the curve of his bottom touched the edge of the table. His arms caressed the instrument, eyes closed, fingers pulling and strumming the strings like a practiced lover.
I could only watch, mesmerized by his abilities, but also seduced by the music he created. His music gave voice to what lie hidden within my body, rattled the cage holding my hungry heart, and teased the pained organ with each chord plucked by his fingers.
There was something about him, something I had never felt before. What was it? Had I become so adept at hiding beneath the surface of my life that I could no longer sense anything but the fear of possible discovery? Was my secret so consuming it clouded everything in uncertainty?
The look in his eyes as he played, the flash of his throat as he swallowed, and the smile teasing the corners of his mouth when he caught me looking at him. These were all weapons of cruel seduction. I could let him destroy me with this weaponry; be carved open and splayed, let desire spill from me like blood, and lust would replace flesh. I would cease to exist and become a ghost allowed to follow after him in a tormented afterlife.
Why could I not have him! Why must it be agony?
Death would only be a kindness from his eyes, mouth, and throat. My fingers dug into my palm, and I dared think the unthinkable.
Could he want me as I wanted him?
It couldn’t be, and if it were, how could I know?
But could he…could he truly want me?
Before my thoughts could catch up with my heart, the music stopped.
“You are not impressed?” he asked anxiously, his eyes eager but already accepting defeat.
I couldn’t think to answer his question. My human voice could not begin to convey how I felt. Action was needed. Unable to contain myself, I stood suddenly from the table and in doing so, knocked my plate of fruit and my mug of ale to the floor. Shock spread across Seton’s face, but I couldn’t resist, could no longer hold the cage together with fear of consequence. Perhaps his music bewitched me, or some demonic lust held sway, but I had to act or risk never sharing what so desperately wanted to be shared.
He faced me. I could see his erection straining the front of his breeches. Perhaps this was a trick, a way to make me reveal my truth. What if somehow I were wrong? This doubt made me stop. Now I could hear the sounds of the familiar world return and with it came cold realization. I stared hard at the floor. Flies had already begun to buzz around the fruit and spilled ale.
“I’m sorry,” I started to say and bent to clean up the mess when Seton grabbed me by my shirt and yanked me towards him.
Unable to bear his eyes
