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    My Man Godric
    My Man Godric
    My Man Godric
    Ebook73 pages1 hour

    My Man Godric

    By R. Cooper

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    About this ebook

    Bertie is a fool and he would be the first to say it. A fool in deed and a fool in love. For years he has steadfastly, and loudly, proclaimed his love for the country's most famous general, Godric of the South, often to Godric's embarrassment and his own humiliation The old king's bastard, and fond of embroidering the skirts he often wears, Bertie has always been considered crazy and useless. Much like the low-born Godric, he has always been an outsider among the deceit and politics of court.

    But when the country is invaded by an old enemy and the rest of the court is scattered, Bertie finds himself a reluctant servant to duty. Convinced of his own unworthiness, he doesn't see the courage in his own actions, or how his outspoken honesty might appeal to someone as honorable as Godric. But with danger threatening them both and driving them apart, Bertie is hardly going to let a little thing like rank get in the way of his chance to be close to his Godric one more time. Not even an army could get in the way of that.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherR. Cooper
    Release dateNov 27, 2012
    ISBN9781301923359
    My Man Godric
    Author

    R. Cooper

    I'm a somewhat absentminded, often distracted, writer of queer romance. I'm probably most known for the Being(s) in Love series and the occasional story about witches or firefighters in love. Also known as, "Ah, yes, the one with the dragons."You can find me on in the usual places, or subscribe to my newsletter (link through website).www.riscooper.comI can also be found at...Tumblr @sweetfirebirdFacebook @thealmightyrisInstagram @riscoopsPillowfort @RCooperPatreon @ patreon.com/rcoopsBluesky @ rcooper.bsky.social

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      Book preview

      My Man Godric - R. Cooper

      My Man Godric

      By R. Cooper

      My Man Godric

      Copyright 2012 by R. Cooper

      Published by R. Cooper at Smashwords

      This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

      Thank you for downloading this ebook. This books is the

      copyrighted property of the author, and may not be reproduced, copied and distributed for

      commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage

      your friends to download their own copy at Smashwords.com, where they can

      discover other works by this author. Thank you for your support.

      Table of Contents

      Part One

      Part Two

      Part Three

      Part Four

      Part Five

      Epilogue-Honey Cake

      About the author

      For Jane Davitt

      Although Bertie had lived this moment over and over in his mind during the past two long months and dreamed it to keep himself warm at night and to stay hopeful during the day, the moment itself was a blur of sick worry, dizzying weariness, and the one overriding thought that he must look a mess.

      Not just a mess, but a wreck. The crazy disaster that he was known for being, even if he had never before in his life been so dirty, or so tired, or dressed so terribly. Not even as a child had his hair been so tangled and stiff with dirt, his fingernails broken and stained, his clothing rough. He had not even had the time to attend to the fit of his borrowed clothing and the sleeves still did not reach past his wrists, leaving his hands numb and red with cold.

      Distantly, he was still somewhat upset about that last point though he was aware it was shallow and stupid to fret over the fit of clothing borrowed from kind people and worn for the sake of survival. But there was almost nothing in the world so lovely as fine, soft clothes made from cloth bright as a butterfly’s wing. At home he would have embroidered the detail of robes and breeches, and cut and sewn his attire himself to his height, and mad and useless though he was, no one could deny that he had looked beautiful enough to have his pick of lovers.

      But rainbow-hued weaves of satin didn’t suit hiding in dark forests and wild mountain ranges anymore than thin linens suited the icy air that signaled winter’s approach.

      He would have had to resort to borrowed clothing in any event, as his finest cloak, alas, was now in two pieces and draped over the shoulders of the Widow Flanders’ two small children, his second finest over the Widow herself. Noble though the cause, his skin itched and burned with every step where it had been rubbed raw by coarse material and it was one more reason aside from his vanity to lament the loss of his things.

      His very first day in these clothes he had decided that he would see to better clothing for his own servants the moment the opportunity was available, and he reaffirmed that decision to himself now. His people should be dressed in material that was warm and thick and soft and fitted to them, so no children went cold and no one else was driven crazy by the rough scratch of this horrible brown wool.

      Ahead of him was the largest tent in the camp, the door flap already partially opened and spilling orange light over Bertie and the people waiting behind him. With so many waiting for him to move, it was even more selfish and shallow and stupid, but he wasted another moment hoping there was a vast and soft feather bed on the other side of that door flap, along with water for a hot bath. He wanted those more than he wanted food though his stomach was making a nuisance of itself once again.

      He patted his chest soothingly and then threw aside the thin cloak that had been loaned to him by one of the three stern soldiers that rode guard around his far too small band of survivors. He immediately shivered at the cold evening air, or perhaps at the thought of those left behind, though he couldn’t let himself dwell on that, not now. Beyond the doorway lay safety, rescue, and the love of his life. He knew that, but he stopped with his hand out, letting the warmth that radiated out from inside the tent reach his clumsy, half-frozen fingers. He shivered again. This truly was not how he’d meant things to go.

      Godric’s captain, the blond-haired, perpetually unhappy man-at-arms at Bertie’s side paused too, quite obviously stopping himself from prodding Bertie forward, perhaps recalling Bertie’s rank just in time.

      Bertie’s rank was a thing that Bertie had a feeling many forgot, either due to his dress or his careless manners, but Bertie had never much minded the slights. He was well aware that he had no talent for governance or war craft as his brother had. The opinions of others, of most others, had long since ceased to matter much to him.

      Nonetheless, he opened his mouth to lick his regrettably cracked and dry lips. Wiping a hand over his face and feeling stubble at his jaw made him wince, as did the quick finger-comb of his short hair. Even with his reputation, knowing the world often thought him useless, the king’s illegitimate half-brother, the princeling with a love of needlework and feminine clothing, at this moment, he could not help but fret over his appearance and wish

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