My Man Godric by R. Cooper Read Free Book Online Page A

this and then
repeated himself. “Then I am sorry.” He laid out his clothes on the
table and Bertie licked his mouth.
    “What are yours then?” He wanted no more
talk of death, not tonight. Godric stopped again but he must not
have been too angry with Bertie after all, for he answered.
    “Things, places, people I wish to remember
or to have close to me.” He touched a spot on his hip then
hesitated. He stared at Bertie for a moment longer before he gave a
sigh and bent to remove his boots. Bertie blinked to see Godric’s
bare feet at last then struggled to recover himself. By the time he
did, Godric was laying down on the collection of blankets on the
floor, gently pushing the cat aside to do so and Bertie forgot all
about his dignity once again.
    “ That is where you sleep?” Bertie
exclaimed, already up and shaking his head. “That is
ridiculous.”
    Godric sat up and stared as Bertie descended
on him, dragging a fur blanket behind him.
    “ I will sleep here. You should be
sleeping in your own bed, Godric.” Bertie realized this was
skirting the edges of an order, but it was necessary. He
deliberately stretched out on the blankets next to Godric and
covered himself as though he had every intention of sleeping
there.
    “My lord!” The duke of war was practically
sputtering. Here Bertie had thought soldiers a brave, lusty
lot.
    “I am not moving.” He stopped short of
touching Godric, but Godric was so warm and so near that Bertie
felt dizzy with it. “I know you are mad at me, but you ought to get
your rest, you stubborn, precious fool.”
    He expected an argument, or a refusal, or at
least to get picked up and dropped back into the other bed. Godric,
still sitting up, only stared at him.
    “I am not angry, my lord,” he said at
last.
    “What?” Bertie was quite tired and
frustratingly close to the fire of his soul. Eloquence was beyond
him. “But this is just like before at the Keep, when you tried to
tell me and I insisted on staying anyway.”
    Godric only continued to regard him with
bemused wonder.
    “I was not angry then either, my lord.” He
spoke as though this had been clear. Bertie almost frowned. Godric
could stuff his apologies, if that was what he was on about. Bertie
squinted at him in the near dark, trying hard not to get too
distracted by the bare skin within reach.
    “But….” Bertie started to argue, then
rethought it and went silent as he pulled over Godric’s pillow to
him so he could be more comfortable as he relived those last
moments.
    The night of the feast, riders had come with
the news of boats off the coast, boats carved with the griffins and
eagles of the Green Men. The court with all its knights and
soldiers had ridden out the next morning.
    It had been a bright morning, not too cold.
Despite the sunshine, Bertie had stayed inside his room in one of
the towers, holding his new cat and regretting that he’d given in
to the pleading looks of the villagers.
    He’d had no business staying, not that his
brother had tried to change his mind. With Godric silent behind
him, Aethir had swept in to embrace Bertie and told him he was
pleased to see Bertie honoring their father, although he’d warned
Bertie to hurry back to Camlann before the first snows. Godric had
said not a word, not then. He had returned moments later and stood
by one window, not seeming to hear the nervous crowds far
below.
    Bertie recalled hurrying over to him and
then barely stopping himself in time to save Godric’s dignity, and
how instead of being grateful, Godric had seemed strangely taken
aback by Bertie’s restraint. He had stiffened and then taken a
small step toward the door.
    “Have you lost my brother already, my dear
Godric?” Bertie had teased hurriedly to keep him there, and because
what he’d wanted to say had been praise for Godric’s appearance,
and worry for him, and entreaties for Godric to take Bertie with
him.
    Godric had frowned, just as he was frowning
now, and so Bertie had