It's early in the morning and the sound of rain spattering against the window brought Merlin a sense of comfort. A kitchen maid lit the fire and a flickering warmth permeated the room while Merlin prepared the Earl's breakfast. He knew the servants viewed him with curiosity, but he didn't care about such things. All he want is to be useful. Giving orders to the household staff made him uneasy, for he had practically been a servant himself until recently.
Merlin had done his best to keep the family together after his parents had died. His brother Will's business failings were a constant source of anxiety, but Merlin of course had learned to suppress his criticism. None of their relatives would help them, not after-
He closed his eyes, not wanting to think about the devastating scandal. His brother had gambled away all their finances. Will had been grieving for his wife, a man out of his head. Merlin had forgiven him for it, even if it meant sacrificing his own future prospects.
And now he was married.
The Earl was going to get rid of him. Merlin was torn apart, so angry with him for his infidelity and for abandoning Will. And yet, to protect the children, he needed him. For now, Merlin had to make the best of this.
"You've scared him, you know," the maid remarked.
"The Earl?"
"No. I mean the butler, George. He's told the Lord that you sacked the cook."
Merlin didn't care if Arthur knew about his dismissing the cook. The ill-tempered man had been robbing the household blind over the past few months, claiming ridiculous costs for food. They were better without him.
"No need to worry about the cooking," the maid added. "Mrs. Bloom and myself will take care of it until the new cook arrives."
"Thank you."
Merlin relaxed a little. A small part of him had worried that he overstepped his bounds. The Earl might not appreciate his interfering with staff members, not with his own precarious position. Merlin needed to apologize for his cross words earlier.
A bell sounded to pronounce the Earl wanted his breakfast.
"I'll better go then," Merlin smiled slightly at the kitchen maid and picked up the tray.
Besides bringing the Earl his breakfast, Merlin wanted to speak with Arthur about the children. And maybe the heaping platter of delicious food could improve his temperament while he explained why throwing them out into the streets would be a very bad idea.
Merlin's stomach grumbled, but he ignored it. He had eaten a slice of toast and a cup of tea, that must do it for now. By the time he finished climbing the back staircase leading to the Earl's room, he knocked slightly. Merlin heard him call, "Enter."
The Earl was seated in a wingback chair, reading the newspaper. He wore black casual trousers and a red cotton tunic. The shadow of a beard lined his cheeks, and his intense gaze rested upon Merlin with interest.
His blonde hair was wet, drops of water glistening at his temples. He'd taken a bath, Merlin realised. A slight shiver run down his spine at the thought of Arthur sinking into a tub of water, his muscled arms resting upon the edge. Merlin had seen for himself the hard ridges of Arthur's stomach, the reddened scar across his chest. A wicked image arose, of soap sliding over those well shaped muscles, of what it would be like to touch him. What it would be like, if Arthur lowered his body upon his, until he yielded to him.
Like before…
An unbearable loneliness caught Merlin. Arthur had kissed him the night he'd left, as though he would never let Merlin go. And now it was as if that man had never existed.
An invisible fist punched him in the stomach, the hurt rising. When Arthur arrived back at the Great Dragon Estate, Merlin's first instinct had been to rush towards him, to hold him and thank God that he was alive.
But Arthur didn't know him anymore. He'd broken promises and cheated on Merlin with another man. And he couldn't let go of that. Merlin blinked back the emotions threatening to spill over. Arthur didn't feel anything towards him anymore, and Merlin didn't know if the Earl ever would again.
"Are you planning to set the tray down or continue staring at me?"
Merlin's face reddened, but he managed to lower the tray. "You're breakfast, Sire." He bobbed a false curtsy.
"I would prefer 'My Lord'."
Merlin of course had meant the address as sarcasm, but clearly the Earl did not recognise it. His temper flared.
"Will there be anything else? Shall I bow down before you and lick your boots?"
"Perhaps later."
The interest in Arthur's voice made it sound as if he didn't mind that idea at all. Merlin whirled and marched towards the door.
"I'm not finished with you yet," Arthur growled.
Merlin sent him a look filled with venom, but the Earl's attention remained in the newspaper.
Trying to get his temper under control Merlin asked, "Would you care for a tea?"
Arthur lowered the paper and regarded him. "Is it poisoned?"
"You won't know that until you are dead, now will you?" Merlin smiled sweetly and poured some tea into a cup. "Milk and sugar?"
"I drink it black. There's less chance of you adding something to it."
"Unless I already have," Merlin dared, offering Arthur the cup. Perhaps he'd choke on it.
Arthur's expression remained normal, and he refused to take the cup. "You first."
"Really, I haven't poisoned it," Merlin insisted.
"Drink." Arthur ordered.
The arrogant tone of the Earl's voice annoyed Merlin, but he obeyed. The hot tea tasted of rich spices with a heady aroma.
"There. Are you pleased now?"
"Not quite." The Earl set the newspaper aside and gestured toward the tray with food. "I want you to taste everything that is on the tray."
"I am not hungry."
At those words Arthur sent him a look that said he knew Merlin was lying.
"You look as though you haven't eaten properly in weeks. You're too thin. I won't have the servants gossiping I don't feed my own husband. If that's what you really are."
"I don't care what the servants think."
"But I do. And If you wish to stay here with the children, you will heed my wishes."
There. The treat was out. Arthur really could make things worse for him, forcing him and the children to leave. And then where would he be? He could not support the children, nor give them a home.