“You two were inseparable.”
“Quite an irony that Crusoe’s father wanted him to study the law. I think I was desperate to be Crusoe and not Friday.”
“You worshiped your brother. After he died, you used to creep from your bed to his in the night. We’d find you there in the morning, curled up holding one of his toys.”
“I was too young to go to boarding school.”
“We thought it best, thought it would help you, being with other boys, being away from here and the memories. When your mother… I never wanted anything but the best for you. I just didn’t always show it in the right way. I still want the best for you.” He exhaled. “I’m not sure Archer is…the right one.”
I know he’s not. I wish he was. But you have no right to judge. You don’t even know him. But then neither did Conrad.
“You can tell that from one handshake?” Conrad asked.
“Yes.”
Conrad helped himself to another scone with clotted cream and homemade strawberry jam. Maybe six weren’t enough.
Run, run, run. The word kept repeating in Archer’s head. But when he stepped outside and saw how fast the snow was falling, he knew he’d end up in a ditch or worse. When he took the bags into the house and put them in the hall, Deefor still hovered by the door.
“At least take a piss,” Archer said.
The dog jumped down the steps and cocked his leg at the bottom. Checking he was unobserved, Archer retrieved the gun from his bag and tucked it into the back of his pants. Deefor ran indoors and Archer closed it before kicking fresh snow over the yellow stain. The door should be kept locked at all times, even if it had been left open for his return. Archer set off across the courtyard.
Conrad didn’t know what his father did. They’d clearly not ever done a “take your kid to work” day. Was the guy confessing now? He doubted it. More likely he was telling Conrad Archer was up to no good. Archer knew Conrad’s father as Kenneth Perrin. If Archer had met Conrad any other way than the one he had, he’d have suspected a setup. It had to be coincidence and yet Archer had trouble believing it. Conrad’s father obviously wanted him to stay quiet. At some point, the guy would no doubt find a way to have Conrad occupied elsewhere so they could talk. Archer guessed how that would go. Get the fuck away from my son.
He stamped through the snow to the bridge, feeling a mixture of pissed off, alarmed and suspicious, hoping to find the gates more secure than he’d thought only to have his first impressions confirmed. Hit hard by a vehicle, they’d pop open. He supposed castles these days didn’t have to worry about invaders. On the plus side, it would be hard for any vehicle but a tank to work up enough momentum over the snow-covered humped bridge to hit the metal with any force. Maybe the gates would hold.
Heading past the car into the castle grounds, he did a circuit of the buildings and the gardens. Some parts of the castle were ruins but to get at any part of the structure, a visitor had to get over what was more than a moat, rather a lake. Archer thought about reconnoitering the area around the island but there seemed little point. Farmland and woods. Presumably a village beyond. He couldn’t police it. If there was trouble coming, it was the castle he needed to defend. I’m Conrad’s knight. A thought that made him smile.
At the rear of a stable block, he looked out over the snowy landscape, across the water onto rolling fields and woods beyond, rounded hills rising in the distance. This wasn’t where he’d done his training but it was in a place like it. Archer thought he’d never want to move if he lived here. He was only half-English, if his birth certificate could be believed, and his coloring led him to believe his father had been who his birth certificate claimed, but he felt English, loved the countryside, thought if he could settle anywhere, was ever allowed to settle, it would be in this country with a view like this. Though he’d never be a match for a lord.
A ball of snow landed on the side of his face and he spun around.
Conrad groaned as Archer made straight for him. “I wasn’t aiming for you.”
“Liar.”
“I didn’t think that through. I can’t run and you’re a brilliant shot.”
“Considering you’re a barrister, that was a bit of an oversight.” Archer wiped the melting snow from his face. “I think you should run.”
“I can’t.”
Archer scooped up snow and molded it into a ball. “Try.”
“Shit.”
Conrad was an easy target. Every snowball hit him. Archer hadn’t even needed to move. He didn’t think Conrad’s father had said anything. It wasn’t up to Archer to give his secret away.
Finally, Conrad stopped and looked back. “That was the last one, right? We’re even now.”
Archer rounded another ball of snow and packed it tight. “Put a snowball on the top of your head,” he called.
Conrad formed a ball of snow, rolled it until it was at least a foot in diameter and lifted it. “Okay, William Tell?”
Archer laughed. “Something smaller.”
Conrad dropped what he was holding and molded a normal-sized ball with his gloved hands. He balanced it on his head. Archer’s snowball sent it flying.
“Wow.” Conrad raised his eyebrows. “Let me have a go at that. Come closer.”
Archer walked toward him and stopped about twenty yards away.
Conrad packed snow into a ball. “Closer than that.”
“You have to be able to do it now.” Archer balanced a snowball on his head.
Conrad hit him in the mouth and was off before Archer had stopped coughing.
“You little shit,” Archer hissed. “That was deliberate.”
He caught him at the far end of the stable block, grabbed the collar of his coat and spun him around.
“Did I mention I’m a terrible shot?” Conrad asked. “Sorry.”
“You will be sorry…my lord.”
Archer felt and saw the shudder of lust ripple through Conrad, echoed by one of his own. His dick uncurled in his pants as he hauled Conrad around the corner out of sight of the castle and pressed him up against the wall. His cock went harder at the head-to-toe contact even with layers of material between them. They stared into each other’s eyes and Archer’s heart beat faster with every second that passed. He put his hand at the back of Conrad’s neck and pulled him forward so their foreheads rested together.
“You okay?” Archer asked.
“This place,” Conrad whispered. “Didn’t want to remember.”
The muscles in Conrad’s neck tensed under his cold fingers. Archer didn’t want to remember either, not about his recruitment, Chris on the mountain, the men he’d killed, but how could he forget? It was all he had. It was what made him what he was.
“If I hadn’t been there, Jolyon wouldn’t have died,” Conrad whispered. “He was showing off to me, wanted me to see how fast he could go and I wanted him to go fast, shouted to go faster. Oh fuck.”
“You were a child. It wasn’t your fault. It was an accident.”
Conrad pushed on Archer’s shoulders to move him away. Archer kept hold of his neck.
“That’s what everyone said.” Conrad stared into his eyes. “Doesn’t mean it’s any less painful.”
Conrad’s lips parted, his tongue snaked out and Archer brought his mouth down gently against his. A sound slipped out of Conrad, a mixture of lust and loss, and it took a moment for Archer to register that the sound hadn’t come from Conrad at all, but from him because he was the one who was lost and Conrad had found him. He’d told Conrad the truth and he could barely believe they were breathing in the same vicinity. Conrad hadn’t run but Archer should be running. He shouldn’t want this, shouldn’t want Conrad so much that the thought of leaving him made his stone heart ache.
Archer slid his tongue inside Conrad’s mouth. He tasted…Oh fuck…Strawberry jam? He reached for Conrad’s wri
sts, wrapped his fingers around them and pulled them up until Conrad’s hands stretched over his head. Archer rocked his hips against him in time with his tongue fucking Conrad’s mouth. Too many layers between them to feel what he needed, to get at what he wanted, to help him forget.
Conrad gulped air when Archer pulled back.
“What have you been eating?” Archer asked.
“Strawberry jam. Clotted cream. Scones.”
“Leave enough for me? Or do I have to make do with your mouth?”
“I ate them all.”
Archer’s stomach fluttered. “Greedy. Not sure your mouth will be enough to satisfy me. I might have to snack on other parts of you. We need somewhere out of the snow. Too cold for al fresco dining.”
“No horses in the stables. Well, there weren’t. I don’t know what’s in there now.”
“Lead the way.”
Archer let him go and Conrad brought his arms to his sides. Two of the doors were padlocked but the last was on a latch. Archer opened it to see light streaming in through a grimy window opposite the door. They were in a storage space holding garden equipment, two ride-on mowers, tools, wheelbarrows.
“No bed,” Conrad said and shook melting snow from his hair. “But I always wanted a ride on one of those mowers.”
“I can think of something better for you to ride.”
Archer refastened the latch and pulled Conrad round so his back hit the door. He fumbled with the buttons of his coat, peeled it open, did the same with his and pressed himself against Conrad’s chest. He yanked Conrad’s hands back over his head and held them there with one of his. With his other hand he stroked Conrad’s face, sliding his fingers from chin to cheek and into his hair before gripping tight to hold him in place.
“Does your father know you’re playing around with the help?” He used his knee to push open Conrad’s thighs then rocked his hip into his groin, nudging the hard outline of his cock.
Conrad gave a loud groan.
“Will he tan your hide if finds out?” Archer whispered. “Or will he tan mine? Or does he already know the help fucks you?”
“Oh shit.” Conrad’s breathing quickened.
“Don’t like this game? Want to play another?” Archer pulled back just far enough to look into Conrad’s eyes. “What does your father do for a living?”
Conrad’s brow furrowed. “Senior civil servant.”
“Has he always done that?”
“Yeah. Department for the Environment, Food and Rural Affairs. Why?”
“Just wondered.” He believed him. He hadn’t thought Conrad knew and although he wanted to blurt out the truth, he held back. He was going to lose Conrad; why ruin what time they had left?
Lust curled like a snake from Archer’s toes to his head, twining around his body like fast growing ivy, suffocating all thoughts but one. He brushed his lips over Conrad’s, dropped his hand to the back of his neck and held his head firm while he kissed him. God, I love kissing him. I love the way he responds, love the way he tastes.
He wondered what Conrad would say if he knew his father had been the one to recruit him as an assassin. Archer had seen the look on Kenneth Perrin’s face. Obviously not his name. He’d been as surprised as Archer. If Phoenix had anything to do with the SIS, Archer thought his recruiter would have been kept in the loop, particularly now his son was involved. So either Phoenix didn’t have anything to do with the intelligence service or Conrad’s father had his own reasons for keeping quiet.
When he pulled back, Conrad’s eyes were glazed.
“Keep your hands up.” Archer looked round, spotted a hank of rope and moved to grab it. When he turned, Conrad had stayed as he’d told him.
“Take a step to the left,” Archer said.
Conrad went right. Archer smiled. The hook was higher on that side. He threw the rope over and wrapped it around Conrad’s wrists.
“Ouch. What was on the left then?” Conrad asked.
“That was the portal to another world, but being the awkward bastard that you are…”
Conrad laughed and then grimaced when Archer tightened the rope. He’d lost Archer for a moment a couple of minutes ago but now he had him back. The price was being tied up.
“Okay?” Archer asked. “Not in pain?”
“I’m fine.”
“Maybe we better have a word in case.”
“Why? Don’t you listen to no?” Conrad asked.
“Not always.”
“You better listen when I say it.”
Archer smiled and kissed him again. Though it was more than a kiss. His hands were burrowing under Conrad’s sweater and shirt onto his skin while his hips rocked insistently against Conrad’s until their bodies were grinding together. Conrad’s balls were so swollen that each touch sent pleasure-pain scuttling into his belly. When Archer licked his neck, Conrad jerked, the rope pulled at his wrists and he groaned.
His need for Archer seemed to be strengthening, which wasn’t good. He suspected Archer wanted to dump him here, maybe go and do something about Dave Morgan before he walked off into the sunset twirling his gun.
“Do you still have your gun?” Conrad asked.
Archer bit down on his collarbone. “Forget about guns.”
Oh fuck, he does. I was an idiot to think he’d have tossed it. He’s lying about that just like he lied about asking his broker to stop looking for who wants me dead. Conrad knew Archer was doing what he thought was right but he was pulling them both deeper into quicksand. Archer nipped and licked a path to his ear and Conrad’s ability to concentrate dissolved like snow on warm ground. Archer nibbled and nuzzled the outer shell and at the same time wrapped his hands around Conrad’s butt and pulled him into him, rocking fast and hard. Conrad stopped trying to think. Archer was winding him into a frenzy of need. Make me come. Make me explode. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Not in my pants. He blasted the message down to his balls but the fire in his belly only grew hotter.
Archer brought his hands around to Conrad’s crotch and spread his fingers over the tented material. Conrad’s lungs froze.
“Keep your eyes open,” Archer said.
A press, flick and pull of a zipper and Archer tugged Conrad’s pants and shorts down together. Shit, cold. Archer dropped to his knees, pressed his face to Conrad’s stomach and slid both hands under the sweater and shirt and up to his nipples. He twisted hard and Conrad bit his lip.
“Ever thought of having these pierced?” Archer asked.
Conrad shook his head.
“Your nipples are so sensitive.” Archer took a noisy breath. “Something there would suit you. A ring to tug on.”
“Think I could pull a bus with it?”
Archer smiled. “I’d like more than your nipples pierced. Your cock too.”
Conrad shuddered. “You can go first with that.”
“Tattoos as well. I’ve never been able to… Yeah, well I like the idea of an uptight controlled guy like you hiding something sexy and dangerous beneath his smart dark suit that only—”
“Only what?”
“Nothing. You wouldn’t do it anyway.” Archer licked his groin.
Conrad bristled. “I was thinking of having a kitten or a unicorn on my butt.” What were you going to say? Hiding something beneath my clothes that only you could see?
“How about on your cock?”
“Not a kitten, obviously. Maybe a flying pig.” No one was coming anywhere near his dick with a needle.
Archer laughed and blew on his balls. Conrad’s cock was trying to find its own way into Archer’s mouth. It was twitching, pre-come leaking from the head, his balls fighting to guide it in the right direction. Archer rested on his haunches and trailed his finger from root to tip. He swept his thumb over the crest and brought it to his mouth to lick off the smear of liquid. Another sweep with his thumb and Con
rad’s knees shook.
Archer wrapped his fingers around the base of Conrad’s shaft and looked up at him as he took the swollen tip into his mouth. Conrad stared down, mesmerized. Watching the expressions play across Archer’s face as he sucked him off made him forget everything. Forget this man was a killer, that they were in danger, that he was at home for the first time in fifteen years and messing around in the stables and that Archer was going to walk out of his life sooner rather than later. The desire to come drove everything from his head.
One hard suck, one long swallow and Conrad released a deep groan. Archer’s hand and mouth worked together, pressure and speed perfectly matched and Conrad stopped trying to hold back. As Archer worked to bring him off, he travelled faster toward bliss. He was past fighting. If this was all he could have, he’d take it. For now at least. The pressure in the back of his skull made his brain ache. Only the presence of Archer’s hand kept his hips still when he wanted to sink his cock deeper into that hot wet mouth.
Fire raced down his spine, shot through his body and ignited his balls. Conrad cried out as he came, long wrenching spasms pulling at his body as come shot from his cock into Archer’s mouth, and through every moment of it he and Archer stared into each other’s eyes. Conrad didn’t inhale until Archer let him pop free.
“Fuck,” Archer whispered and wiped his lips with the back of his hand.
Before Conrad had the chance to exhale, Archer was up on his feet and had spun him around to face the wall.
“What the hell is it about you?” Archer whispered. “Can’t think. Can’t breathe. Only want to fuck you when I’m anywhere near you.”
Conrad heard the squelch of lube and wondered where the fuck he’d got that. He heard the sound of foil tearing, felt the rounded head of Archer’s cock nudge his hole and braced himself for the sharp bite of pain. His hips pushed back, his thighs spread and Conrad was appalled at himself. How come his body wasn’t doing what he told it? Archer had his hands plastered on Conrad’s hips, fingers digging in, holding him steady, and Conrad grunted as Archer pressed and shoved his cock deep into his arse. The burn of muscles forced to stretch too quickly made him gasp in pain but when Archer stopped moving, Conrad wanted more.
Breaking: Fall or Break, Book 2 Page 21
