Chapter 6
OF SINNERS AND SAINTS.
Splurging money on clothes and nonsense is usually something James sees from the royal family.
It’s to be expected. He finds it unnecessary and pretentious, although he can’t say that he didn’t benefit from it from time to time. The Queen Mother liked to buy him clothes whenever she bought some for Steven, as if he was the little brother who’d get jealous if he didn’t get the same toy.
He stares ahead, feeling steam coming out of his ears and nose as he grips the sides of the big box he’s holding. There are at least three more boxes stacked on top of it, then a few paper bags shoved on each side. These are clothing, jewelry, and shoes — and the viscount is not done.
“I think I’d like some new neckties,” Samuel says, pointing at a boutique. His hands are empty compared to Joaquín and James, though James is evidently carrying more. “Maybe one more pair of shoes…”
“I think you’ve had enough, my Lord.” James chimes in. He could barely peek from behind the stack he’s holding. “We should–”
Samuel cuts in with a brow raise and a faint amused smile on his lips. “Steve told me you’re the best of the best… you’ve slain countless foes and what, carrying shoes have worn you out?”
James frowns. “Are you doing this on purpose?”
Playing dumb, Samuel tilts his jaw up at the knight. “Do what on purpose?”
James drops his stack on Joaquín, making the young attendant lurch backwards with the excess weight on his arms. Then, he walks towards the viscount, stopping at a distance that might feel too personal, piercing him with his eyes.
Samuel doesn’t blink when he returns the stare with the same intensity as James levels his breathing. He’s obviously trying to calm himself down, realizing that maybe there’s more to looks and expensive perfume and the viscount is proving that. Nevertheless, James has a duty, and their little stand-off in the middle of the pathway draws too much attention already.
With a sigh, James walks past Samuel and towards the boutique. He swings the door open, his titanium arm whispering a mechanical tune. “After you, my Lord.”
Samuel would grin ear to ear if it wasn’t for the sake of pretending he doesn’t mean to drive the knight to the brim of his patience. He strides inside nonchalantly, gently patting James on the cheek, which makes James chuckle to himself sardonically and with a shake of his head.
James unwillingly takes his share of shopping goods from poor Joaquín who exhales in relief.
“Oh, no.” Joaquín whispers to himself as he stops walking.
“What?” James pauses as well, turning his head towards the attendant. He gently adjusts the boxes in his arms.
Meanwhile, Samuel, who is still walking ahead of the two, notices the lack of followers behind him. He turns as he opens a perfume shop’s door, eyebrows raised in question.
“I’m sensitive to perfumes. I can’t go in there.” Joaquín says, almost ready to get fired as his shoulders rise in anticipation.
“You break out in hives?” James asks.
Joaquín clicks his tongue. “Rhinitis. It’s terrible. I mean, I can still try, I don’t think I’ll die or–”
“Oh, well,” Sam responds with a shrug. “Just put those back in the car and stay there. This’ll be my last stop.” He then glances over to James. “I promise.”
James grips the boxes tighter as he watches Joaquín sigh. “What about mine?”
“Just carry them in. You’re fine, right?”
With squinted eyes, James indignantly walks past the viscount and through the shop, pushing the glass door open with his shoulder. Samuel smiles with pride, nodding at Joaquín to go.
Somehow, deep in Joaquín’s gut, he could tell this is about to go south.
The strong mixture of perfume hanging in the air almost feels like a punch in the face. James frowns at it, maybe too much, as he slowly makes his way into the shop. He watches as Samuel casually strides in, obviously a frequent customer of perfume shops with the way he immediately knew where the testing strips would be, or what fragrance to look for.
It shows. Samuel smells like heaven — though not so much about his antics today. James isn’t sure which drives him mad: the constant teasing or the fact that his existence is being acknowledged so much.
As his nose gradually gets used to the varying scents, James drops the boxes on one of the seats available. He nods his head at the salesperson who politely (and nervously) smiles at him before turning away. He follows Samuel further into the store, very careful with the expensive bottles of perfume sitting on the shelves.
Samuel stops and picks up one of the bottles and examines it with a hum, seeing James come closer from his periphery.
“You think this is good?” He says, smelling it from the nozzle.
“Is that new?” James asks. “What’s wrong with the old one?”
“You like the old one?” Samuel tilts his head as he turns to the knight.
James swallows, taken aback. He does. Samuel has no idea what it did to him — what it does to him. “It was… okay.”
Samuel chuckles and puts the perfume back on the shelf, walking further to grab his usual brand.
Watching Samuel spray the perfume on the air before basking into it, James traces his gaze along his jawline, down to his neck that eventually gets covered by the cravat. He snaps his eyes back to Samuel’s face, fingers gripping each other restlessly as he keeps his hands behind his back.
“You gotta spritz it on your pulse points.” James blurts out without much thinking.
Samuel blinks at him. “What?”
James chatters his teeth gently as he stares at the viscount, well aware of the situation he put himself into. “They… the royal family, they would spray perfume on the pulse points. That’s what they were taught.” He offers a palm, “May I?”
Staring back at James, Samuel hesitantly passes the bottle to him, careful of their fingers grazing against each other. He doesn’t take his eyes off the knight as he steps forward, the distance between them closing in.
“Behind your ears,” James says quietly, whispering. He places a delicate hand on Samuel’s chin, angling it upwards and to the side. Very carefully, he moves his braids out of the way and sprays the perfume where he said he would.
“And your wrist.” He continues, taking the viscount’s hand. He pushes the sleeve up, making Samuel shiver at the coldness of the metal fingers touching his skin. Then, James sprays it, pulling his wrist closer. “Pulse points emanate heat. Heat releases the fragrance.”
Samuel is frozen, eyes wide and heart slamming against its ribcage. He looks around and notes the absence of salespeople, presumably to give the soon-to-be King consort privacy when shopping. This, however, left him and the knight alone, whatever tension they had in the chapel completely turning the opposite way.
Staring at the viscount, James stays in place, studying the way Samuel’s Adam's apple moves up and down as he quietly gulps. His eyes flicker up to Samuel’s, absentmindedly rubbing his thumb on his wrist, sending electricity down the viscount’s body.
It felt like it took all his strength when Samuel yanks his hand off of the knight’s grip, stepping backwards and almost hitting a shelf when somebody walks in.
What was that just now?
Samuel blinks away, convinced that if he thought about it more, he’d go insane. Meanwhile, James takes a big breath and reevaluates his thoughts, walking out of the perfume shop for some fresh air.
“Sam?”
With a small jolt, Samuel looks back at the king situated on his left. He blinks, realizing he had been staring at his mashed potatoes for so long, lost in his thoughts.
“My King?” Samuel speaks up with a smile, his spoon digging into the potatoes absentmindedly now. “Sorry, I…”
What does he say? That he could still feel the touch of Commander Barnes on his skin, ever so delicate, when he had turned his face to the side?
“I’ve been thinking about the chapels too much.” He lies.
Steven chuckles at it, shrugging his shoulders. “I don’t blame you. We have a couple more to look at, I think, but they’re outside the city. It would require us to house the guests somewhere else, far from the palace.”
Samuel smiles, relieved that he bought his words. He doesn’t see why he wouldn’t. “As long as you let me know when, Steve.”
Steven chuckles. “No surprises this time,” He says, knowing that he might have forgotten to tell Samuel about today until Joaquín had told him in the morning. “By the way, how did the rest of your day go? Anything remarkable? Heard you went shopping.”
It feels like a jolt down the spine when Steven brings up his day. Samuel scoops a pile of the mashed potatoes, swirling it around the gravy on his plate as he thinks. “Nothing remarkable,” He decides, a certain pair of blue eyes flashing in his memory. “I got some good stuff, and that was it.”
“I was hoping that Bucky was kinder to you?” Steven gives him a gentle smile, sincerity in his gaze.
Samuel couldn’t help but think that he’s staring at the wrong shade of blue.
“Yes,” He answers. “Yes, he was.”
With a satisfied hum, Steven gets back to his steak dinner with a smile. “I’m happy.”
Samuel finds himself wandering in the garden again.
The breeze has gotten warmer as summer creeps in. Soon enough, he’d have to shed his spring layers, but he’ll probably wait until the rain stops coming. He rubs his arms slowly, his feet somehow leading him to that hidden practice ground where he first found James.
It’s empty. Disappointment sinks in his chest somehow, staring at the cut up mannequin.
“It needs to be replaced,” James speaks from behind, making Samuel jump. He tries not to smile as he walks up to the viscount. “I think I almost detached the head yesterday.”
“You don’t have to be so quiet and stealthy.” Samuel remarks, his eyes following James.
James shrugs, “I wasn’t. You just weren't paying attention enough. That’d be bad for battle.” He says, lifting a sandbag that is the shape of a head. It’s got a frowned face drawn on it with paint.
“That’s why I’m not a knight.” Samuel points out.
James nods. “Fair enough.”
Samuel watches as James goes to the mannequin, basically beheading it with a knife. Then, he ties up the new head, patting it after. It makes him snort out a quiet laugh.
Their eyes meet again, as James pauses for a bit.
“Do you wanna try, my Lord?”
With a blink, Samuel answers, “Try what?”
James smiles at him softly, then unsheathes his sword. It glistens under the moonlight. “Do you know how to hold a sword?”
“I… do?” Samuel answers reluctantly. It should be easy, right?
Nodding, James offers him his sword. “Show me.”
“Okay, I don’t.” Samuel resigns with an eye roll, making James chuckle a bit. “It’s not that hard though, is it?”
James moves his head in a way that gestures the viscount to come closer to the mannequin.
Somehow, Samuel’s heart picks up the pace. He takes a step, then eventually begins to walk until he’s right beside the knight, nervous. It’s not even just about holding a sword, it’s being around James especially after this morning.
James gives Samuel the sword to hold. Samuel never realized how heavy the swords can be as he tightens his grip while holding it up.
“It’s like a handshake. You hold it like a handshake.” James explains as he watches the viscount flip the sword around, visibly struggling, because how do you shake hands with a sword?
“Here,” He says, reaching for Samuel’s hand to properly position his wrist. “You shouldn’t extend your wrist too much, as it won’t be strong enough for parry. This is good. And then your fingers,” He adds, carefully peeling some of them to be situated best, “Like that.”
Samuel watches as James helps him grip the sword the proper way, feeling the warmth in his face again. James twists his wrist and talks about flexibility and things, but at this point Samuel is just staring at him with infatuation in his eyes.
Samuel is taken aback by his own realization.
What?
He snaps back to focus, hearing words again, as James steps behind him, lifting his elbow gently. His chin isn’t resting on his shoulder, but it’s close. Samuel could feel his warm breath seeping into his collar.
“Shoulder to elbow, then wrist.” James commands with a low voice, hand sliding from Samuel’s elbow, then up to his upper arm until he lets go. “Swing.”
Samuel immediately swings the sword forward, slicing the mannequin on the torso, a few wooden debris flying out. He huffs out a proud laugh before looking back at the knight.
James gives him a nod and a smile, his hands buried in his pockets. “Needs better footwork, but good start, my Lord.”
“Thank you, good Sir,” Samuel bows his head with a grin, “Soon enough I’ll be good enough to defend myself.”
James humors him and tilts his head. “Will you not be needing me around, then?”
The statement makes Samuel pause as he stares at the knight, his smile fading as he hears his heartbeat ring in his ears. James returns the look as he steps forward, taking his time to step over the grass under them, his wrist resting on his sheathe. Samuel grips the sword loosely, hoisting it up for James to take.
James takes the sword, holding it by the hilt first. Then, his fingers make their way to meet Samuel’s hand, delicately grazing against it, which is almost electrifying. His touch lingers on the viscount’s hand before fully wrapping his fingers around it, pulling the sword to take, except Samuel comes and steps forward with it.
A breeze gently passes by them as they get closer, both their eyes searching each other for answers as to why they’re here like this. This is immoral, isn’t it? A royal knight and the King’s fiancé, alone somewhere in the palace grounds, feeling things in their chests that they shouldn’t feel at all.
James falters, but he steps forward again, exhaling a shaky breath. He’s still holding his sword along with the viscount’s hand, and the viscount doesn’t seem to protest against it. Instead, Samuel keeps staring at him, making him self-conscious.
“My Lord–”
“What is this?” Samuel asks, voice hushed. “What is this that you’re trying to do to me?”
James is taken aback, blinking before meeting the viscount’s eyes again. “I… I don’t know what you’re talking about–”
“Yes you do.” Samuel says, pulling the sword back, which makes James lurch a little bit forward as well. “During dinner. You think I wasn’t noticing the stares? The looks? And whatever you were doing in the chapel. In the perfume shop, for Heaven’s sake–”
“And were you not returning them?” James snaps back, his chest heaving. “Did I not catch you staring back at me a couple times?”
Samuel frowns, getting a bit flushed. “You stared at me first.”
“And this? Hm?” James lightly moves their hands along with the sword. “Why aren’t you letting go?”
“Why are you holding my hand?”
“Why are you being so difficult!?”
“Difficult!” Samuel scoffs. “How on Earth am I being difficult!?”
“Difficult to stay away from!” James exclaims, loud enough to rattle some critters that start scuttling away in the grass.
Samuel’s chest heaves as he looks at the knight, noting his expression, his words leaving him gasping for air.
“I tried. I tell you, I tried to be content with just looking from afar.” James speaks lower, almost like a murmur. “But fate just seems to have other plans. Do you think I wanted this? Do you think I don’t know where you stand, your status, who you are?”
Samuel lets go of the sword in shock, as James takes it without breaking his stare. He can’t think of words to say. He can’t even deny that.
“Yet… I gravitate towards you. You just constantly pull me into your orbit and…” James confesses, exhaling a shaky breath. He takes one more little step, leaning closer to the viscount’s ear. “Do you think I didn’t see you walk past the garden and go straight to this place?”
“Commander–”
“You were trying to find me. Weren’t you?”
Samuel tilts his head up at James with a gulp, but he maintains his stance.
It’s true. He wanted to see him. He couldn’t stop thinking about him, and it felt like drowning on nothing when he thought he wasn’t here.
This is all sorts of wrong.
James pulls away from his ear, now closer to his face. Their noses touch as James deliberately keeps his lips ajar as he closes his eyes.
This is all sorts of wrong.
Samuel breathes in and knits his eyebrows together, lifting a hand to touch the knight’s face, except he stops, trembling. His mind reels at the thought of James being this close, and with one move their lips could—
This is all sorts of wrong.
With a sigh, James flutters his eyes open and moves away. He shakes his head as he places his sword back in its sheath, turning around and walking away, just like that — because if he doesn’t, both of them know where this might lead.
Samuel is left standing there once more. His hands shake with anticipation cut short, and a newfound feeling of yearning starts plaguing his entire body.
Joaquín yawns as he passes by his bedroom window. The viscount had advised him to sleep first, and that he wouldn’t have to worry about him.
But he notices the Knight Commander coming from the garden, untying his horse from a pole before riding off. This isn’t weird at all, knights come and go all day and all night, doing their patrols and duties.
The suspicious thing is that his Lord Samuel, who should’ve been in his room, follows just a few moments after, coming from the same direction. He looks around first before jogging back to the palace.
Joaquín raises both his brows.