Chapter 8All through matins and breakfast, the daisy petals fell as William analyzed Samuel’s every gesture and expression, trying to get a clue as to what Samuel’s feelings were toward him.
Why is this so important to me? William thought as the two men sat side by side, eating their morning meal. I only met him two days ago. So we’ve made, uh…had, um…done this…thing…whatever it is. What difference does it make whether it’s s*x or love?
Samuel’s leg pressed against William’s beneath the table. The swoop of emotion William had felt earlier reoccurred—heart to groin and back again. Love or s*x, s*x or love? He loves me, he loves me not.
William returned the pressure. But as he did, he looked around the dining hall at the monks and Father Benedict, silently eating their breakfasts. He real
