Allison was mid-study when Stiles found her. She did not stop studying as he talked, but he continued anyway. He told her about the morning's events and didn't skip over the part where he almost kissed the next Earl of Beacon. It was only at that point in the ranted story that her pen slowed at all, and it was only when Stiles detailed the sudden departure that she even looked up.
"Wait. Lord Hale almost… kissed you?" she asked.
"Were you not listening to me, Allison? I am offended. Truly I am. That you would give more attention to your studies than to my ails and woes – it offends me." Stiles put his hand on his chest and let out the fakest sob he could muster.
Allison laughed. "Alright. Alright. I'm closing my book. But be serious, Stiles. I knew you and Lord Hale were close from your correspondence, but you mean to tell me you two developed some secret love affair? You didn't tell me that."
"We never started a love affair," Stiles protested, lowering his voice. "We never expressed fondness for each other… well, except as a relief for finally having someone worth writing to. I certainly admired his stories and personality, and your aunt couldn't keep her mouth shut about how attractive he was – as in, she would regularly detail his attributes. So yeah, maybe I like him. There's nothing against that. I'm allowed to like men who are completely unavailable to me. It's called a fantasy for a reason."
"Except you just said he almost kissed you. That doesn't sound like a man who's unavailable to you," Allison pointed out. She was grinning with mischievous glee. This was probably the only gossip she'd heard in months that she actually cared about.
"Right, but I also said I must have imagined it. Remember? He didn't kiss me. He left. He said he 'enjoyed' breakfast, and left me in the gardens. Besides that, he's going to be an Earl, Allison. He can't have feelings for a scribe!" Stiles threw his arms out to the side and then motioned to himself wildly, even after he'd finished speaking.
Allison looked unimpressed. "Why can you like someone you think is unobtainable but he can't? Haven't you read any novels lately? A prince falling in love with a common scullery maid. A lord marrying an inventor's daughter. A princess choosing a charming street rat. The theme is everywhere. So why is Lord Derek Hale, soon-to-be sixth Earl of Beacon, finding himself attracted to Stiles, the scribe, so outlandish to you?"
Slumping into the chair beside his friend, Stiles groaned. "This isn't a novel, Allison. We can't just bend rules in real life. Even if he liked me back, he couldn't-"
He sat up straighter as a thought occurred to him. If Derek liked Stiles, he couldn't do anything about it. They couldn't court, because Stiles wasn't eligible. But, like Allison said, that didn't mean Derek didn't like Stiles. It just meant that he couldn't act on those feelings. For instance, he couldn't go around kissing scribes over breakfast just because he wanted to.
Perhaps he'd been thinking all the same things as Stiles, not just about wanting to kiss but about why they shouldn't. Maybe he stopped himself because he'd also realized there was no future for them.
Beside him, Allison grinned like a kitten. "I support your secret romance," she whispered conspiratorially.
"Good to know," Stiles said, standing again. "I need to go investigate something."
"Good luck," she said as she waved him off. Sometimes he loved her more than he normally did.
Lord Hale was in the hall with Lord Argent when Stiles found them. No, he didn't walk up to them. He back stepped out of sight and listened to them discussing the portraits on the walls. Derek was explaining the halls of his home in Beacon, where the last five Earls were honored in ink and oil with grand portraits that hung in the gallery, along with smaller family portraits. Unlike how his father would have reacted, Lord Argent didn't seem to take this as an offense. He merely continued the conversation about who was featured in the Argent paintings.
Back pressed to the wall, Stiles tried to think up a way to casually have Derek overhear him talking without rudely interrupting the gentlemen. Only now did he realize he'd had no plan in mind when leaving Allison. As usual, he'd gone into something without thinking.
Suddenly, a door down the hall opened and a servant stepped from the kitchens. It was not a cook or a server. It was Jared. Stiles felt the wickedest grin cover his face, and he called out to the stable hand, who jumped in shock.
"Oh, Stiles! You frightened me," Jared said with intense relief. "I thought you might have been Earrrllllll-y. Early for lunch. Ahem. I thought you were someone else." He nervously cast his eyes about, making sure none of the Argents had overheard him.
Lord Argent probably had, but he made no notion of it. The lords spoke more quietly than before, almost as if they would be the ones interrupting if they continued their conversation as normal. Or perhaps Stiles was being dramatic. He was in the whims of his scheming and couldn't be bothered with rational thought.
"No worries, Jared," Stiles assured, coming close enough to clap the young man on the shoulder. He was in full view and earshot of the gentlemen. Perfect. "I was hoping to go riding today. Perhaps just after lunch. Do you think you could prepare a horse for me? You know I'd normally help, but-"
Jared shook his head quickly. "No-no! Don't worry about a thing, Stiles. Of course! I'd be happy to prep one of the stallions for you after lunch. No one else is riding today, so you should have no problem. None at all."
Some servants liked Stiles, but for some reason Jared really liked Stiles. It was borderline awe and worship at times, and Stiles could not account for its formation. Certainly he'd only ever been normally kind or teasingly mean to any of the servants, including Jared. Still, somehow, Jared would do almost anything Stiles asked of him. Of course, Stiles didn't abuse that power, but the relationship did have its perks, like knowing Jared would loudly assure Stiles of his utmost support.
"Good man, Jared," he said, patting the young man again on the shoulder. The conversation at the other end of the hall had lulled. They must have heard everything. Everything was going to plan. You know, now that he had one.
Waiting to enact a plan made time pass even slower than boredom did. Stiles wasn't even hungry for lunch, but he begged the clock to bring the food faster. When, finally, the lunch bell did ring, Stiles ate quickly with the servants and other scribes – he only ate dinner with the family, and maybe breakfast if they left a spot for him at the table. Then he hurried to his room and pulled on his riding slacks and boots, with only a mild bit of added difficulty from his splinted fingers. The Argents may not supply him with much, but they had at least allowed him to buy a good set of riding gear.
When he arrived at the stables, Jared was there with a beautiful brown thoroughbred, just finishing up the straps of the saddle. He frowned when he saw Stiles, which did give the scribe pause, but not for long.
"I'm sorry, Stiles," Jared said. "I said no one else planned to ride, but just before lunch was called, Lord Hale requested to borrow a steed so he could check out the countryside."
Shaking his head, Stiles said, "Don't worry. The countryside is more than enough space for two people. We probably won't even run into each other."
With the help of a stool, Stiles lifted himself into the saddle without harming his fingers. He told Jared to make mention to Lord Hale that Stiles would be riding near the river, in case Lord Hale wanted solitude as much as Stiles did. Then, with Jared's assurance that he would do so, Stiles led his horse in an easy trot down the yard and into the fields and forest beyond.
On a normal day, Stiles really would want to be alone on his ride. He'd want to admire the river water and hear the huffing breaths of his horse without interruption by other people. However, that was only because the people who would be interrupting would be Argents. The prospect that Derek Hale was truly taking the bait and coming to ride with Stiles – it made his body thrum with nervous energy.
If Derek showed up, it meant Derek felt at least similarly to Stiles. Did it not?
He rode slowly along the river's edge, careful not to get too close. Some of the horses liked to sit down in water, and he could never remember which ones. Today was not the day for a dunk in the river.
Twenty minutes later, he turned his horse back toward the house. He didn't want to ride too far, or Derek wouldn't be able to find him. Not that he needed to worry. He'd barely begun his walk back when he saw the arrival of another rider. Derek, to be specific. Obviously.
When they came close enough, Derek cleared his throat. "The stable boy told me you'd be this way," he said. "I wondered if you might give me a tour of your woods."
Stiles' chest swelled with hope. Derek had come because of Stiles. Whatever his supposed excuse, he'd come for Stiles.
With a light smirk, Stiles walked his horse in a tight circle, coming up beside Derek and once again facing away from home. "These are not my woods," he said. "These are Argent woods."
"Are they, though?" Derek asked, no doubt remembering Stiles' letters that recounted his many walks and rides through the trails. "Perhaps you do not own them, but they are no less yours."
"Poetic," Stiles said with a hum. "Follow me, then."
They rode slowly, and Stiles told stories about the things they passed – animal burrows, natural bridges, and the like. Derek listened attentively at first, as though he might be quizzed later, but eventually he began responding with stories of his own, about the woods near his home.
The pace and atmosphere were relaxing. The conversation was lively and had them both laughing often – like when Stiles told Derek about the woods he grew up in and how he'd nearly set them on fire as a child by running through them with a flaming log he'd grabbed from a newly lit bonfire. He'd been a child. The reason for his shenanigans weren't important. Derek, in turn, had Stiles in stitches over a story involving his sister Cora chasing a mountain lion that had stolen one of their livestock. She'd been so devious about her hunt that the mountain lion became frightened of her and tripped over itself trying to escape her. In the end, it had returned the dead livestock, half-eaten, and continued to bring half-eaten trophies to the edge of their property for a week, as though paying tribute to Cora. She never let them forget that.
An hour into their ride, Stiles slowed his horse to a stop beside an old stump he'd found during his first ride ever, back when he'd frequently run from the Argent manor after a beating and hid like a child. He'd cried on this stump. The story almost came out of his mouth, but he closed his teeth around it.
Instead, he turned from the stump and faced Derek. The lord was waiting patiently, expecting their stop to mean a story was about to start. He was so earnest and attentive. It made Stiles' chest ache.
"Do you like me?" Stiles asked.
Confusion knit Derek's face into one of his normal serious expressions. "Of course. You know I dislike riding with people, yet here I am."
"No," Stiles said, but then shook his head and decided to let Derek's answer satisfy him for now. "I mean, yes. I knew that. And this has been the most satisfying ride I've been on in years. So, even though I was the one acting as a tour guide, thank you for your company."
"Anytime," Derek said, and his little smile took place on his face again.
It was like a secret smile, like he wasn't used to showing this part of himself, and Stiles had spotted it three times since Derek's arrival. Once at the first dinner, once at breakfast, and now. Stiles was fond of that secret smile already, which probably wasn't in his best interest, but Stiles did a lot of things that weren't in his best interest. Enjoying a smile was the least concerning of his daring choices.
They rode back to the house in a similar fashion to the ride out. Conversation filled the air. Derek's miraculous knowledge of where Stiles slept was revealed to be the work of Caitlyn, the maid whom always had mint on hand for Stiles. She may start a rumor, but then she may not. Stiles found he didn't mind if the servants knew, but he'd probably make time to see Caitlyn just to make sure it didn't get to the other scribes or the Argents.
The ride's conversation easily turned to their letters, about questions they'd had but didn't know how to write or that they'd only thought up later. Stiles asked about Derek's scribe situation.
"I'm surprised you left yourself without a scribe for so long. Writing all those letters to Kate in person when you claim to dislike her so much – it must have been a pain," Stiles said, definitely not trying to suggest anything. Most certainly not trying to lead Derek into an answer about liking to write to Stiles in person, as himself and not through someone else.
Nodding, Derek hummed in agreement. "There were many changes occurring at the Hale House around the time when Kate began her letters, one of which was my scribe retiring. Picking a new scribe was far from my mind. Besides which, I somehow felt I would be betraying my old scribe by replacing her. I know that sounds stupid, but that was my mindset." He shrugged and turned his gaze into the trees. "Some letters are frustrating to write yourself, but others are quiet enjoyable. I was more than fine writing my own mail for a few months."
Close enough. Kind of. Actually, Stiles wasn't sure if that satisfied his hopes at all. But that's the answer he got, so he didn't have much choice.
"Yeah. It feels nice to have someone write it for you, put that stamp on the corner, but I believe writing your own letters makes them more personal. Somehow more intimate." Stiles was sure this was what Derek felt as well, that they had one more thing in common. "I never felt connected to people when using a scribe."
"You've used a scribe?" Derek asked. "Does Earl Gévaudan let you borrow his?" The question was coated in disbelief and surprise. Stiles understood why.
"No! What? No. Absolutely not," Stiles answered rapidly. "Earl Gévaudan lets no one else use his scribe. That's why Lady Katherine and Lord Argent use their own. But no to them as well. I meant… before. Before I worked here."
Derek nodded. "You've worked for Lady Katherine for four years. So what was your profession before you were a scribe?"
While Stiles loved that Derek remembered a tiny detail like how long Stiles had been employed, he did not so much love the topic of choice. He cleared his throat. "Ah, we're almost to the manor. That ruins my entire good mood. Now we must return to you being a good, upstanding businessman and me, a bored and despondent scribe. At least until these fingers heal. Which the doctor says should be next week, by the way. Then I'll be useful in all manner of things – not just looking good in a saddle."
He winked at Derek and flustered the lord all over again. He loved making the older man blush.
The manor would come into view in a few moments, so Stiles and Derek could no longer ride together. Instead, Stiles hung back and told Derek to go on ahead. It wasn't unusual for Stiles to waste time on a ride, so no one would be expecting him to return quickly. Derek, on the other hand, would make everyone nervous if he stayed out too long.
Derek placed his hand on Stiles' shoulder and set an intense look on him for a bit too long to be comfortable. Then he urged his horse onward and disappeared into the trees. Stiles stayed in place, equally from necessity as from paralysis. Would he never get used to those eyes? Their strength and concentration. Their fiery intensity. He felt like he'd seen another pair of eyes as powerful as Derek's, someone else with the Hale spark, but in that moment he could only think of Lord Derek Hale.
There was an ache growing in Stiles, starting in his chest and slowly spreading, gnawing at him more and more every time he and Lord Hale saw one another. He wondered how long it would take for this ache to drive him mad – well, madder than he already was, because only a madman would consider what Stiles was thinking.
And what was he thinking? He was thinking Allison had the right idea. If Derek was up for it, Stiles wouldn't say no to a good old dose of romantic espionage.