Yaoi Infused M/M Romance

A Summer Without Rain – PG Excerpt 2

 

A Summer Without Rain - Historical Yaoi, M/M Romance

A horse pulling a small cart emerged down the street. Standing up, Shannon squinted his eyes to see the young man in the seat more clearly. Blond hair, white shirt, it was Ciaran all right. But what was all over the front of his shirt? As his friend came closer, the stains on the front of his shirt became clearer. Distinct dark, reddish-brown splotches came into view.

Redirecting his focus to Ciaran’s face, he hurried toward him. Something dirtied his face as well. “Oh my God, Ciaran. Are you all right?” he said, while grabbing the horse’s bridle and directing him to the alley next to the pub.

Ciaran beamed with a dumb expression. “Yeah, I’m great actually,” he said as if proud. His body swayed with the motion of the cart.

“What’s happened to you? Is that blood on your shirt?” Stopping the horse at the side door to the pub, he raised his hand to help Ciaran down.

Ciaran slapped Shannon’s hand away. “I can get out of the bloody cart.” He lumbered down.

As soon as Ciaran stepped on the ground, he seized him, drawing his body hard against his own. He buried his face against the side of Ciaran’s head. “What happened? How bad is it? Did you come up against more Black and Tans?”

“What’s all this then?” Iona stepped out from the side door to the pub.

Tossing Ciaran away, he spun around to face her, glaring. “See? He shouldn’t have gone alone, he’s hurt!” The one thing he couldn’t handle was seeing the young man he loved hurt. Anger flooded his senses and he wasn’t sure exactly whom to direct it at.

“Just a minute now. Ciaran, are you all right? What happened, sweet boy?” she asked in a calm voice.

Ciaran smiled. “I won. That’s what happened. You should have seen it, Shannon. This bloody awful man was shouting at this poor woman. Well, I wouldn’t have none of that. So I got between them and I told the man, leave that woman alone! And he told me to make him. So you know what? I bloody well did.” A loud chuckle escaped him.

“What do you mean you did?” His anger faded. Terror gripped his heart.

“Um, he swung at me first and well, I got a bit of a bloody nose.”

He gasped.

“But you should have seen me, Shannon. I clobbered him good, twice even, and he ran off,” Ciaran said, puffing out his chest.

Iona grinned. “Well, I’m proud of you, Ciaran. You did a good thing.” She nodded her head in encouragement.

Shannon continued to glare at Iona. “What do you mean? He could have gotten himself killed!”

“Hush, Shannon, don’t be such a mother hen. Be proud for your friend,” she said.

“But, I—”

“See? Don’t be a mother hen.” Ciaran let out a snicker.

He grunted, grabbing Ciaran by the arm. He hauled him into the side door of the pub, up the stairs and through Iona’s flat into the bathroom. He hurried to wet a washcloth. His hand swiped the washcloth in harsh dabs over Ciaran’s face, cleaning the dried blood from it.

“Shannon.”

He dabbed.

“Shannon.”

He dabbed, harder.

Swiftly reaching up, Ciaran snatched his friend’s furious arm by the wrist. “Stop.”

Fear raced through his body. Pain filled his eyes as he looked into Ciaran’s bloodied face. He whined, “You could have been killed, Ciaran.” How could he have been so thoughtless? A mixture of dread and sadness welled up in his chest.

Ciaran’s stern expression softened. “Listen, I didn’t kick off. I didn’t even come close to kicking off. I’m fine, really. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

His eyes met Ciaran’s for the first time since he had this new understanding of himself. Terror seized his heart. What was it he saw in those green eyes? Did he dare think he saw something more than friendship? It was definitely different. Something definitely changed. Where they’d gone, there was no turning back to how they were. This thing between them was way beyond it. Somehow in the space of a few days, they both grew more emotionally than in the last few years.

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