This weekend, I have a snippet from The Artist's Masquerade for you, in which Cathal is thinking about (really, trying not to think about!) Flavian.
And Cathal was rather looking forward to the outing, not for any particular interest in glass art but for how Flavian would react. Cathal’s new favorite pastime seemed to be finding ways to get past Flavian’s outer shell, the mask that Flavian wore, and see him interested, excited, full of wonder.
Lost in passion.
But he couldn’t think about Flavian like that at the moment— couldn’t remember what happened to Flavian’s face when Cathal touched him, how his cerulean eyes went dark with desire—not when he was surrounded by his father and cousins and his betrothed and her family. Because no one could suspect what they’d done, not just for his sake, but for Flavian’s.