For all his desire to tug the fabric of the vest harder, and pull their bodies closer as he had so wished he could do before, Malachi’s efforts ended when Arthur’s hands settled on his hips. The answer served only to upset him, as was evident by the way his brows drew together and his frown deepened.

“That… isn’t what I meant,” he said quietly, looking down into the doctor’s hair.

Slowly, Malachi slipped his arms around Arthur’s shoulders. His heart felt like it could beat straight out of his chest, for how forcefully it fluttered within him.

“I mean, what are you going to do once you’re in there with her?”

Holding Arthur close, he rested his head against his, while his eyes searched the room desperately for a distraction. He felt – awful. Dirty. He felt like the feral child that the Brennans had made him into, just to have something to ridicule.

“Are you going to – incapacitate her, somehow, before I’m in there? If she sees me enter the room, she’ll call for the servants. But I want to see you do it.”

There was a knock on the door to the room beside theirs. The one that they had presumed Doctor Adams to be staying in, of course.