Free A Wager of Love: M/M Historical Romance by Katherine Marlowe

win. You have to prove to me that the shred of hope in my bitter heart is worth keeping. Even unrequited, Laurie—I want to be in love.”
    A tangle of emotions locked itself in Laurie’s throat, and he swallowed thickly. He felt uncertain as to his own motivations. He wanted to prove to Gilbert that love was true and to see him happily enamoured and married, but something about the prospect of Gilbert in love—or, worse, the dread that he would not be able to make his proof and Gilbert would never know love—made his heart ache.  
    They sat the rest of the journey in silence, disembarking once they arrived.
    “Come with me to the country,” Laurie said, as Gilbert held the front door for him.
    “The country?”
    “You must. It will be miserable in London once the full summer heat sets in, and I have in mind some proof which I might provide. My parents have a house in Somersetshire. Come with me.”
    In the light of the single lamp lit in the front hall, Gilbert smiled at him, warm and genuine. “I would like that. When shall we?”
    “When can you? I have few enough affairs in London—they might be settled within a day.”
    “Wednesday, then,” Gilbert suggested. He stepped forward briefly, hand lifting in Laurie’s direction as if to clasp his arm, but then he stopped and put his hands behind his back. “Will you stay the night again?”
    Laurie smiled, glad for the warmth of the friendship between them, especially after the disconcerting evening. “If your hospitality can be imposed upon.”
    “Gladly, for you.” Gilbert’s grin turned a little more impish, and he nodded up the stairs. “Your room awaits you, as ever.”

6
    Thine, Forever Thine
    T hey took Gilbert’s carriage , which was far more comfortable than the stagecoach would have been. Gilbert brought along a stack of books, including the Symposium , and resumed his reading aloud to Laurie along the journey.
    The air cleared as they left the smog and stench of London for the long and sloping farms and meadows of the countryside. Windows open for the warm air, the two of them relaxed drowsily in the carriage, with plenty of road yet to travel. Boots off, Gilbert put his feet up on the seat next to Laurie, stretching out comfortably as he read, so Laurie mimicked the movement and stretched out his legs as well. His were longer, having an inch or two on Gilbert in height, though Gilbert was broader in the chest.
    The Symposium went on to suppose, in Aristophanes’ speech, that the world had once been made up of people of two halves, which the gods in their wrath had split. Some were halves of men and men, some of women and women, and some had one part of each, and their souls went about through life and eternity in search of their other half.
    “Do you believe it?” Laurie asked.
    “No,” Gilbert said. “Or rather, I hope not. If it were so, I fear that the gods in their wrath would have placed my half on the other side of the world.”
    “But the theory does allow for the possibility that it isn’t one specific soul we’re seeking, but rather a type—that each has a nature, like to our once-dual bodies, which is drawn accordingly to either men or women.”
    “Why not both?” Gilbert asked.
    Laurie blinked, perplexed. “It’s outside of the scope of the myth.”
    “Much of the world is outside of the scope of any myth. Why not both?”
    “I suppose I don’t know.”
    “Or, indeed, neither. I’m much in support of the spinster movement. A woman—or a man—should never be pressed into marriage if they do not so desire.”
    “Well then,” Laurie said, “within the scope of the myth, are you the sort of man whose other half is a man, or a woman?”
    Gilbert’s brows lifted and his mouth opened, then shut again. He flushed, which was really very attractive across his high cheekbones, and cleared his throat. “That is not a fair question.”
    Laughing at the response, Laurie rested his chin on his fist. “Isn’t