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‘Try it again,’ Edwin said.
With a sigh, Robin moved his hand back to the starting position that he was, by now, an expert in.
He wasn’t an expert at much else. In fact, other than one very tiny glow that could honestly have just been the sunlight shifting overhead, he’d so far displayed no magic at all.
It was a very exciting thing, to learn one could use magic. It was much less thrilling to learn that could was the operative word. If it weren’t for the fact that Addy was storming ahead with her newfound abilities (helped along by Kitty, who’d so far had by far the most luck picking up the one-handed techniques Edwin had taught her) he’d assume the spark he’d felt at Thornley Hill had just been his imagination after all.
Now the sun was low in the sky, dipping out of sight behind the small, walled corner of Sutton’s gardens where they’d been standing for what felt like hours. Its orange glow cast long shadows on the gravel pathways, the neat square of lawn with its single apple tree in the centre.
‘Might want to give it up as a bad job, this,’ Robin suggested.
‘Nonsense. You’ve barely begun.’ Edwin did not appear to have noticed the time. He was animated as he always tended to be when sharing what he knew about magic, his shirt sleeves rolled up to the elbows.
Watching Edwin in his element and looking at his bared forearms were both very compelling reasons to carry on, Robin had to admit.
‘It takes patience,’ Edwin went on. ‘You’re no worse than I was when I first started using Flora’s techniques. You’re better, in fact—no, you are,’ he insisted, at Robin’s noise of scepticism. ‘It took me far longer than you to produce anything at all, and of course you don’t have the disadvantage of having to unlearn cradling. You just need to focus.’
‘Need I remind you I was a thoroughly average scholar?’
‘Yes, I’m beginning to develop a real sympathy for your old tutors,’ Edwin said, with a small smile. ‘Come on. Try it again.’
Robin moved his index finger in a way that felt unnatural.
‘Not quite.’ Edwin stepped in close to adjust Robin’s hand, moving it first to the starting position again, then guiding the bend of his finger. ‘Like this. You have to be careful in how you move between the gestures. That’s just as key as the positioning itself.’
Watching Edwin’s gentle but firm manipulation of his hand, feeling the warmth of his fingertips, Robin sighed. The problem—or at least a not-insignificant part of it—was that Edwin was the one teaching him.
This was no reflection on Edwin. He was as painstaking, dedicated and knowledgeable in this as he was in everything. The trouble was that Edwin was being painstaking and dedicated and knowledgeable at Robin, using his most authoritative tone while also standing incredibly close and drawing all Robin’s attention to Edwin’s hands moving his own wherever Edwin pleased.
Focus was a very tall order.
‘Perhaps if I watch you again,’ Robin suggested, before he could do anything impulsive like tackle Edwin to the grass.
‘You’re the one who told me you learn by doing,’ Edwin said, although he obliged, elegant fingers shifting in practiced motions, slowed for Robin’s benefit, until light glowed sure and bright in his palm.
Robin swallowed, watching his hand command that glow. He tried to copy Edwin’s precise movements; the faintest shine sputtered into existence and then died.
‘Better,’ Edwin said, with a small nod. ‘Again.’
‘Bossy,’ Robin muttered, hand returning to the starting position once more.
‘Yes,’ Edwin agreed. ‘Do it again.’
This time the light held a little longer.
‘Remember, you’re drawing from the ley lines,’ Edwin told him. ‘Focus on them.’
That was why Edwin had brought them to Sutton, to practice where the lines crossed, and where Edwin’s own magic was strongest. He’d invited Robin to make blood-pledge with the place himself, to give him the best advantage. There in the hedge maze (‘For the sake of symmetry,’ Edwin had said) Robin had sworn he’d felt, thrumming in his veins, some of what Edwin had that day in the parlour outside the Rose Study, when his blood had called out to Sutton for help and the house had answered.
It may just as likely have been what it meant, though, to give something of himself to Edwin’s home.
‘How exactly do I focus on them when I can’t even see them?’ Robin asked, as the light in his hand vanished again.
‘You feel them,’ Edwin said. ‘Or—sense them, I suppose? It’s hard to explain.’
‘And yet you’ll do it with flair, I’m sure.’
Edwin laughed. ‘It’s easier to show you,’ he said. ‘Take your shoes and socks off.’
Robin raised an eyebrow, but bent down to do as he was told, straightening when he was done and wriggling his bare toes against the neatly trimmed grass beneath his feet.
‘Close your eyes.’
Robin did so.
‘All right,’ Edwin said quietly. ‘Now. What are you aware of?’
‘You,’ said Robin, which was perfectly true and his genuine first answer. He could hear Edwin’s soft footsteps, sense him circling behind him and stepping close, feel the light tickle of Edwin’s breath on the back of his neck. It made him want to lean back into him.
‘Besides me.’
Robin considered. ‘Birds,’ he said, after a moment, listening carefully to the cooing and chirping around them. ‘Wood pigeons, and some kind of song bird.’
‘It’s a goldfinch,’ Edwin readily supplied. ‘Yes. What else?’
‘The breeze, I suppose. Rustling the leaves. And—the scent of herbs.’
There was a larger kitchen garden closer to the house, but this part of the grounds was still packed with edible and medicinal plants, the easier for Edwin to learn more about some of Flora Sutton’s botanical work without getting under the kitchen staff’s feet.
Robin inhaled deeply, trying to pick them out one by one. Sage, rosemary, thyme. Mint, a spell laid carefully on the earth to contain its sprawl. Vibrant lavender, delicate chamomile.
‘Good,’ Edwin said.
Robin frowned a little in puzzlement, though he didn’t open his eyes. ‘The ley lines are under the ground, though.’
‘But they channel the magic inherent to everything,’ Edwin said. ‘Like Lady Dufay told us. I should have realised then that you’d have the capacity to cast spells of your own.’
‘Let’s not get too far ahead of ourselves,’ Robin said dryly.
A long finger prodded him gently between the shoulder blades. If Edwin noticed Robin’s suppressed shiver, he didn’t mention it. ‘None of that. You’ve already made progress with the light spell. If you won’t take credit for it yourself, you can give it to me for teaching you.’
‘Deal,’ Robin said with a smile.
‘You’re right, though.’ Edwin’s hand came to settle on his hip. ‘What’s beneath your feet?’
‘The—grass?’ Robin’s voice ticked up at the end, like it was a trick question. He allowed the warmth of Edwin’s palm to anchor rather than distract him, and exhaled through his nose, concentrating, his toes curling once more against the ground. ‘It’s—cool. Hasn’t fully dried out from the rain last night.’
‘Very good.’ Robin could hear the smile in Edwin’s voice. ‘And beneath that?’
Robin caught his instinctive response—dirt—and tried to imagine what might be happening under the surface. The roots of the grass reaching down into the earth, dense mesh of fine threads drinking in the recent rainfall. Ants toiling away in their colonies, pink earthworms, fallen leaves feeding the soil below.
He described these things to Edwin in as much detail as he could call to mind. And he couldn’t feel them, not really, but as he spoke he could picture them with more and more clarity, until he almost felt he could sense them, as though it wasn’t just his imagination but a faithful report of the teeming life below his feet.
Edwin, standing behind him, hummed approvingly, and then placed his other hand on Robin’s other hip, and Robin faltered.
‘Focus on everything you’ve just told me about,’ Edwin murmured to him. He was very close, and his words stirred the fine hairs on the back of Robin’s neck. ‘And then think about the ley lines beneath. Picture them feeding magic into all that life you’ve described—the earth and the grass and the plants. And you.’ His hands dropped to the sides of Robin’s thighs, then smoothed carefully up over his hips, coming to rest again on his waist. ‘Do you feel it?’
‘I certainly feel something,’ Robin said, a little strangled.
There was a brief pause.
‘Really?’ Edwin asked, amused and incredulous.
Robin huffed, opening his eyes and turning to face him. They were almost toe to toe, and he took hold of Edwin’s waist in turn. ‘If you say you have no idea what you’re doing to me I simply won’t believe you.’
Edwin’s eyes widened, guileless. ‘I’m teaching you about ley lines.’
‘Yes, and it’s really bloody distracting!’ He laughed at Edwin’s expression, perhaps two parts disgruntled and one part rather smug, and took the opportunity to kiss him.
‘Perhaps we should give it a rest for today,’ he suggested, when they parted. His hand slid round to splay over Edwin’s lower back, keeping him close as he lowered his voice. ‘Go and try something I feel more knowledgeable about.’
‘No, no.’ There was a determined look in Edwin’s eye that meant he’d regrouped and was about to tackle a problem from an entirely new angle, and a gleam that had Robin intrigued. ‘I’d be a poor teacher if I couldn’t work with what naturally motivates my student.’
He took a step backwards. Slowly, eyes never leaving Robin’s, he undid the top three buttons of his shirt, parting the starched white fabric.
Then he reached for Robin’s left hand, bringing his palm to rest just off centre where his shirt opened. Robin could feel the warmth of his skin through his thin cotton undershirt, and the rise and fall of his chest, and the steady beat of his heart.
‘If this is in aid of me not getting distracted, I’m afraid it’s going to have entirely the opposite effect,’ Robin breathed.
‘Possibly,’ Edwin said. ‘I’d still like to try, though. If you’re struggling to draw from the ley lines directly, perhaps you could draw from me instead.’
He raised his right hand. ‘Do as I do,’ he instructed. ‘And imagine the magic flowing from me to you.’
Robin took a deep breath as he lifted his right hand in kind. Something in him balked at the idea of pulling power from Edwin, the echo of last year’s equinox gala ringing uncomfortably in the back of his mind.
But this wasn’t that. This was power freely offered; this was Edwin as beautiful, willing conduit for the magic they were already welcome to share in, simply by being here and alive.
Robin watched Edwin’s fingers dance through the motions of the spell, sparking and extinguishing the light, then doing it again, slower, so that Robin could follow.
And Robin imagined the origin of that strong golden glow, imagined Edwin calling it up from the vast channels criss-crossing below them, up through the soil and the bugs and the grass, into his body, his blood, into his heart, until it pulsed beneath Robin’s fingers. Edwin throwing the connection open wide to Robin, generous and joyful, letting that power surge through both of them, and Robin could feel it; he could feel it as though he was brimming with it as he focused on Edwin’s heartbeat and Edwin’s movements and his own fingers mirroring him.
The light flared triumphantly to life in his hand.
Edwin gasped, and Robin laughed in delighted astonishment. It was unmistakeable this time, strong in the fast-fading daylight, unwavering. It held and held; Robin felt he could have kept that light aflame forever, if he’d wanted.
But Edwin was smiling at him, elated. His eyes crinkled at the corners, full of love and pride, and what Robin wanted was to kiss him breathless.
‘You’re the most incredible thing,’ Robin told him, his voice low. This time the light subsided purposefully, like a lamp dimmed at bedtime, rather than fizzling out. He felt euphoric, emotional, overwhelmed. He wanted to hold that connection between them open.
‘That was all you,’ Edwin said, though his cheeks went pink with pleasure at the compliment.
Robin shook his head, pulling him towards him with a hand at the small of his back. ‘I’m giving you the credit for teaching me.’
‘Natural motivators,’ Edwin reminded him, and was still smiling when Robin pressed their mouths together, the smile turning to a sigh as the kiss deepened, a whimper as it became urgent, Edwin’s teeth nipping at Robin’s bottom lip.
Robin held him close, fingers still resting at his back, and panted, ‘What say we call it a day?’
Edwin shook his head. ‘Of course not. We’re making progress,’ he said.
His tone was solemn. But Robin knew him well, by now. He caught the twitch of his mouth at the very corner, understood the hint of laughter, of challenge, in his eyes.
Robin’s own eyes flicked towards Sutton Cottage, confirming they weren’t overlooked here. Even if this particular patch weren’t off limits to visitors, opening hours were long over, the gardeners finished for the day. No chance of anyone wandering in here and discovering them.
Risks calculated and found to be minimal, he backed Edwin against the apple tree and kissed him soundly, one hand in his hair, the other reaching down for the fastening of his trousers. Edwin was as responsive as ever, clutching at his shoulders and arching up against his hand.
‘We are making progress,’ Robin agreed. ‘I think I’m really beginning to understand, now.’
‘Oh, yes?’ Edwin gasped, guiding his hand downwards. ‘Tell me what you’ve learned.’
‘Focus,’ Robin said, pushing Edwin’s trousers and drawers down just enough. ‘Hand positions,’ he added mischievously, and Edwin shuddered as Robin’s fingers wrapped around the familiar silken warmth of him.
This Robin knew. This he was an expert in. All the ways to bring his lover to spectacular, shaking climax.
He could have picked any of those ways now—could have dropped to his knees in gratitude for Edwin’s patience and care, could have pulled him down to the cool grass and laid him out over the ley lines. But it felt fitting to bring him off with his hand, to move in close, seeking that connection, his other palm pressing once more over Edwin’s heart, feeling it beat like birds’ wings.
‘You have to be careful, of course, as you move between the gestures,’ he murmured, beginning to stroke in the easy rhythm Edwin enjoyed, and Edwin choked out a laugh, head tipping back against the tree trunk, eyes closing, before the laugh gave way to a soft, wounded sound.
Robin kissed the furrow between his pale brows. He brushed his lips over each of Edwin’s eyelids, over his nose and chin, over his mouth, swallowing all his pretty, helpless noises. He was hard and aching beneath his own clothes, but he was so thoroughly focused on Edwin’s pleasure he was startled to feel Edwin’s hand on him, cupping him through cloth and then fumbling impatiently at the button of his trousers.
‘You—’ Edwin bit out. ‘Against me, please, I want to feel you; oh, can you—’
Robin nuzzled his cheek and promised, ‘Anything you want,’ though he’d caught on to what Edwin was asking for. It took a moment to extricate himself from trousers and drawers, but once he had it was blissful to wrap his hand around both of them together, to feel the astonishing, searing heat of Edwin’s length flush with his own.
‘You’re beautiful,’ Robin sighed, half-lidded eyes cast down so he could watch what he was doing, marvel at the sight of them together. He felt, saw, Edwin twitch against him and gasped at the spark of pleasure it sent zipping up his spine, cascading through his limbs. ‘Oh, Christ, you’re just so—I could watch you forever. Like this, or doing magic, or—anything at all with those hands of yours.’
He would have been happy to spend their lives watching Edwin reinvent British magic, more than content to see it play out from the sidelines. How lucky he was to get to share in it with him like this, to learn from Edwin the thing he was passionate about, not merely to hear but to truly know.
He still felt brimful of something—magic or love, he wasn’t sure. Perhaps in this moment they were the same thing.
Edwin shivered now. His thighs shook against Robin’s; his fists bunched Robin’s shirt where he clung to Robin's back. His sounds grew steadily breathier, more desperate, until a stream of broken pleas fell from his lips.
‘Come on then, love,’ Robin urged him, speeding up his pace. The angle and pressure weren’t quite the way he’d prefer them himself, but he knew from experience that they worked wonders for Edwin. ‘Come on, let me see you.’
Edwin let the fingers of one hand rest against Robin’s wrist. It was something he did often; he liked to feel the precise way Robin touched him. Connection, Robin thought with a smile, looking at those pale, slim fingers, the sight of them alongside his own hand curled around them both almost unbearably erotic.
He put his mouth to Edwin’s ear. ‘Let me feel you,’ he whispered, and Edwin buried his face in Robin’s neck and moaned as he came. For a moment, Robin could almost swear, the whole garden seemed to brighten, thrumming with energy. He thought of the way the lights in their bedroom would flare when Edwin climaxed, as though his satisfaction made Sutton surge with magic.
Beneath the hand still pressed to Edwin’s chest, Edwin’s heart hammered.
Wanting to test a theory—Edwin was rubbing off on him in more ways than one—Robin raised his other hand, now a little damp. He walked his fingers carefully through the motions of the spell, smiling when the light came easily.
When he let it fade again and looked at Edwin, he found Edwin smiling back at him. He was lovely as he always was in the aftermath of orgasm, breathing hard, flushed pink from his fair hair all the way down to the exposed top of his chest, his eyes dreamy and soft.
‘They can be closely entwined,’ he said quietly. ‘Magic and sex.’ He raised his own hand, but the light he called up was a mellow blue.
His eyes met Robin’s, silently seeking permission, and Robin nodded, biting his lip in anticipation.
It didn’t take much. Robin groaned at the familiar snap of sensation as Edwin trailed his glowing fingers along Robin’s length. His hips jerked and he gave himself over to it, spilling over Edwin’s hand, gasping as Edwin stroked him through it, wringing every drop of pleasure from him.
When the last tremors had faded, he leaned against Edwin, tipping their foreheads together, bracing his hands on the tree trunk.
‘Closely entwined indeed,’ he murmured, and Edwin huffed a laugh.
‘A very productive lesson,’ he said, toying idly with Robin’s shirt buttons. ‘We’ll make a scholar of you yet.’
‘My lectures at Cambridge weren’t nearly as inspiring.’
‘Yes, well.’ Edwin’s hand slid up and round to cup the back of his neck. ‘It’s not a teaching method I’ll be using with anyone else.’
Robin kissed him once, quick and chaste. ‘I’ve every faith you’ll find some other way to get the best out of them.’
He tucked Edwin carefully back into his underwear and trousers, then himself, then guided them both down to sit at the base of the tree, wrapping an arm around Edwin’s shoulders. Edwin reached up to take hold of his hand, leaning into Robin’s chest and closing his eyes with a satisfied sigh.
‘Will you teach me your blue light spell?’ Robin asked him, ghosting a kiss over his temple. ‘Some day, I mean. Only I’d love to make you feel that good.’
‘Hm.’ Edwin drew Robin’s hand to his mouth, pressing his lips to his knuckles. ‘Seems rather dangerous.’
‘I’ll follow your instructions to the letter,’ Robin promised. ‘And not a moment before you think i’m ready.’
‘I meant giving you more ways to make me feel good.’ Edwin’s gaze slanted sideways and up at him. The sun had set, and his eyes were darker blue in the early twilight. ‘I’ll spend my time so mad with wanting you I won’t get anything done.’
Robin laughed. ‘I’d have no complaints about that. But very well. We’ll hold off on driving you out of your mind with lust.’
Edwin settled deeper against him. ‘Some day,’ he said. ‘Some day I’ll teach you everything.’
Robin rested his head against Edwin’s and placed his free hand flat on the grass, feeling for the magic humming beneath them.
There, he thought. He was sure he could sense something.
‘I look forward to it,’ he said.