Read Online Emyr's Smile by Amy Rae Durreson - Free Book Online Page B

went back to the
inn.
    It took three days
before he even managed to get into the trade office and that was
only by hiding behind two much larger sailors and a very big barrel
of oil. He lingered after they left, clearing his throat
nervously.
    “Emyr?”
    Emyr was sitting behind
the desk, his back straight and his face stern again. His eyes had
gone back to cool sadness. “Heilyn, you have no business with me.
These are my work hours.”
    “I’m not leaving,”
Heilyn said, the words tumbling out. “I want to stay.”
    “That’s good,” Emyr
said, turning away to file the papers he had just signed. “I know
Elin needs another pair of hands at the inn, and Father Cian speaks
highly of your work.”
    “I’m staying for
you.”
    Emyr didn’t look up
from his desk. In the dim light of the office, it was hard to see
much, but Heilyn thought his knuckles were whitening as his fists
curled up against the wood. “Don’t.”
    “Emyr.” Heilyn took a
step towards him.
    Now Emyr looked up, and
his eyes were fierce and miserable. “I said don’t. I won’t do this
again, Heilyn. I won’t have a lover who’s always looking at the sky
and dreaming of the next ship.”
    “Who says I do that?
I’m not him.”
    “I didn’t want to see
it,” Emyr said wearily, “but you were looking. You’ll get bored,
eventually. What is there here for you?”
    “You.”
    Emyr shrugged a little.
“That won’t be enough. You need more.”
    “I need you.”
    “You’re young. You’ve
never had a serious lover before, and you feel sorry for me. That’s
all it is, Heilyn.”
    “No, it’s not!” Heilyn
did rush forward then, but Emyr moved before he could get close,
stepping through the door to the inner office and letting it slam
behind him. The lock clicked, and Heilyn was left standing alone
again.
    “But I love you,” he
said to the empty room, his voice wavering.
    He kept trying, of
course, but Emyr had somehow managed to disappear inside his own
life. He seemed to be simply refusing to see Heilyn, even when they
were at arm’s length, and no amount of begging and pleading got
past his solemn demeanor. Every night, lying sleepless and
shivering, Heilyn felt a little more of his hope slipping away. He
wanted to be back in Emyr’s bed, in the warm circle of his arms,
but it was starting to seem like an impossible dream. Emyr was so
determined to hide from him. Instead, he wrapped the blankets
tightly around himself, stealing the spare ones off the other beds
when they were empty, and imagined Emyr’s face, lit by a quiet
smile. He lost himself in the memory of evenings sitting with Emyr,
talking quietly about the business of their days, of squeezing
under the oilskin together to brave a rainy walk home, of the
growing clutter in Emyr’s kitchen, which Heilyn has stealthily
filled with pots of herbs and piles of sketches.
    It hurt, in a way he
had never understood before. He had always been a little scornful
of those who claimed to be lovesick, but now his heart simply hurt,
a low ache behind his ribs which never went away. He couldn’t
paint, because the colors had lost their brightness. He just wanted
Emyr.
    But Emyr wasn’t his,
and never would be, it seemed, and eventually he put hope away,
tidying it up as carefully as he had once cleaned his brushes at
the end of the day. Time, sympathetic people kept telling him,
would heal all. So he would wait, and maybe one day he would feel
like making something beautiful again and be able to sleep without
waking up with burning eyes.
    Just before midwinter,
on a day when he had wandered out to the quay to look down at the
sea and wonder why he had ever wanted to paint something so gray
and dismal, the mail ship Aderyn came skimming down from
the sky, her storm sails bright white against the dim winter
clouds. Heilyn watched her dock with his hands in his pockets, not
really caring but needing something to busy his eye.
    As the captain strode
past, towards Emyr’s office,