by Ruby Moone
“Your turn to lean on me,” Charlie whispered, his eyes serious, inviting and filled with something that looked frighteningly like tenderness.
Harry groaned and ignored the double meaning. He leaned down to kiss him and they stayed like that for an age. Kissing. Just kissing. It was so damned intimate. More intimate than the scorching pleasure they had engaged in the previous night, more satisfying that any fucking that Harry had ever engaged in. Just a man, holding him tight, kissing him, and offering himself without wanting anything in return.
Charlie’s hands were in his hair, holding his head. Harry moved a little so he could bring his own hand between their bodies. He lined up their cocks and took them both in one hand and as the kissed, he stroked. Their rhythms became intertwined and softly, gently, intimately they held together and as Harry’s crisis neared, he pulled his mouth away.
“Open your eyes and look at me.”
Charlie’s eyes opened. Serious and intent. Harry kept on stroking hard until Charlie’s eyes started to flutter and his body tensed and then Harry kissed him again before he spent. Harry followed moments later.
They lay in the cold and the mess and Harry knew he could not put it off any longer.
“There is something I want to tell you, but we should dress first. You’ll get cold.” Harry glanced down at Charlie who lay beneath him, eyes wide and unblinking. Harry felt ill.
“Why don’t you tell me here? We can clean up and…”
“No. Let’s get up.” Harry knew that when he told Charlie the truth he would not want to be naked in bed with him covered in his spend. As much as he wanted to hide under the blankets, for Charlie’s sake he needed to be up and dressed.
Charlie swallowed, leaned up, and pressed a kiss to his jaw. “Very well.” He threw back the covers and strode naked across the room. He threw more wood on the fire and then stood shivering by washing stand as he cleaned himself up as the fire crackled and smoked a little. When Charlie had done, Harry got up and cleaned himself, too.
Charlie went through a door in the corner of the room and came back holding an assortment of clothes. “Here you go. They should fit. Yours were in a bit of a mess.”
Harry took them. The clothes were simple but handsomely made, unlike his own. Charlie disappeared back into the small room so Harry dressed quickly. They were a little loose, apparently Charlie had more muscle than he did. He was messing with the cravat in the mirror and making a hash of it when Charlie came back looking terribly tidy and handsome. He smiled and took hold of the ends, then stood behind him to tie it.
“We look like a couple of tulips,” Harry said to Charlie’s reflection in the mirror with a smile.
“We do. You do realise that it is only five o’clock, don’t you?”
Harry nodded. He took Charlie’s hand and kissed it, then walked to the window. He took a breath and pushed back the curtain. He prayed that they were so snowed in no-one would be able to get to him for months. Well. That was one Christmas wish that wasn’t going to be answered. There was still a significant amount of snow drifted about the house and the countryside, but it was starting to rain rather than snow. Harry felt guilty as he thought of Julian stranded in Scarborough and waiting for him. Charlie came up beside him.
“Should be gone soon,” he said.
Harry squeezed his eyes shut but opened them before he turned around. “Let’s eat. I’m starving.”
Charlie lifted his hand and cupped Harry’s cheek. “You can tell me anything. Just take your time.”
Time. He didn’t have time. He had no time at all. He trooped after Charlie miserably as they headed for the kitchen.
Charlie made a pot of tea and put some bread to toast and then dropped some eggs into a pan. He mixed the eggs and moved the bread like an expert.
“You’ve cooked before,” Harry said as he watched.
“Army.”
Harry huffed a laugh. “You can tell.”
“How so?”
“Scars all over you, neat and fussy.”
Charlies scowled. “I am not fussy.”
“If you say so.” Harry had to laugh. He was the fussiest person he knew. Nothing was left out of place. “I’ll wager you thought I hadn’t noticed you tidying up all the time.”
Charlie shot him an amused glance and scooped the eggs out of the pan and divided it onto two plates. He plastered the toast with butter and then disappeared into what looked like a pantry and returned with a platter of roast ham. He put generous helpings onto each plate and then put one down in front of Harry. It looked divine.
Charlie sat opposite. He lifted his cup of tea in salute so Harry followed suit. “Merry Christmas.”
Harry smiled and clinked his cup with Charlie’s. “Merry Christmas.”
They ate in silence and Harry appreciated Charlie not putting pressure on him to speak. He was trying to work out a way to explain that wouldn’t end up with Charlie hating him, but concluded that there wasn’t one. He put the toast down.
“I stole money.” He looked at his hands on the table as he said it.
“How much?”
“Two hundred and fifty pounds. Well, I didn’t exactly steal it, I owe it, but I ran away.”
Charlie was watching him but his eyes were unreadable. He had no idea what he was thinking. “Men are chasing me for the money. I managed to get on the stagecoach from London to Scarborough, but they realised I hadn’t paid and threw me off a few miles back.”
Charlie nodded. “You didn’t have enough money with the two hundred and fifty?”
Harry’s head drooped a little lower. “No. I stole some more for the stagecoach fare and…” Harry felt sick.
Charlie reached over the table and took his hand. “Do you want to borrow it?”
Harry looked up, Charlie’s instant kindness almost breaking him. “Oh, Charlie that’s just the start of it…” He squeezed Charlie’s hand. “When I tell you the rest you won’t…”
Before he could say more a banging on the kitchen window made them both leap apart guiltily. Charlie was on his feet immediately, but Harry was frozen to the spot at the maniacally grinning face in the kitchen window.
“Don’t let him in!” Harry leaped up, knocking over his chair with a clatter and grabbed Charlie’s arm. “Don’t let him in…”
Chapter 10
Charles stared at the faces at the window for a second and then turned to Harry.
“Calm yourself. Who are they?”
Harry was shaking, his eyes wide and terrified. “I can’t believe they found me here. How did they find me here?”
“I have no idea. Tell me who they are.”
Harry flinched as the man banged on the window again and shouted. “They’ve been sent by the man I owe money to. Dante sent them.”
“Dante is the man that you owe money to?”
Harry nodded.
Charles looked at the men in the window. He had no idea how the bastards had found him, but there were not getting Harry.
He pulled his shoulders back and stared at them. “You must go to the front of the house,” he shouted through the window.
The response was abusive but Charles ignored it. After some shouting and gesturing they set off grudgingly, so Charles ran for the study with Harry on his heels. He grabbed a key from the drawer of his desk and opened his cabinet. Inside was his brace of pistols. He checked them. Both were primed and ready and in perfect condition. He lifted his coattails and shoved one down the back of his breeches.
“Can you fire a pistol?”
Harry looked horrified. “No.”
“Fair enough.” He shoved the other beside it and grabbed his knives. “Put this inside your coat where you can get to it.” He secreted his own throwing knife and then gestured for Harry to follow. He spoke over his shoulder as he opened his safe. “You came to me to get the money you owe. Right?”
Harry stared. “Harry. Listen to me. You came to me to get the money. This is what I will tell them and then I will gi
ve them the money.” He held up a pile of notes and then shut the door and closed the cupboard.
“Charlie, they are dangerous—I mean really dangerous,” Harry said, apparently coming to life. He grabbed his arm, genuine fear in those dark eyes. “Let me deal with them. You don’t have to do this. All they want is me. I will hand myself over to them and they will go. Charlie, you can’t get involved. I can’t let you get involved in this. I can’t let them hurt you. We are outnumbered.”
Charlie took his hand and kissed the back of it. “This is my home.” He didn’t feel the need to say anything else.
* * * *
Harry could only stare at the man who stood before him, arming himself and preparing to take on Dante’s men for him. His gentle, charming angel had transformed into the soldier that he apparently was. Charlie stalked into the hall, flung open the door, and stood looking at the men. Harry’s heart sank. Bill Mosely. Bill Mosely hated him with a passion and would gladly take any opportunity to disembowel him. With him were two men that he had seen at Dante’s but didn’t really know. All of them were big, ugly, and hard. They didn’t stand a chance.
Charlie looked them up and down. “You must be the three wise men?”
Absurdly, Harry wanted to laugh. He put his hand to his mouth.
“Funny man,” snarled Mosely as he barged his way in with the other two following. Mosely was big but it was all fat. He was probably ten years older than Charlie, but he was a nasty bastard through and through.
“Hold it there,” Charlie said, holding up a hand. Something in his voice registered with them because they stopped. Harry wondered if Charlie had been a general or something. “I presume you have come for the money?” he said.
The men looked at each other and then Mosely grinned. “Nice work, Harry lad.”
Charlie ignored the comment, but Harry went cold. Clammy sweat coated his skin. “From what Harry tells me three hundred should cover what is owed.”
“Selling yourself short, Harry lad?” Mosely said and then turned to Charlie. “Three hundred what he owes and then another three for the service he done you.” Mosely sneered.
“Fucking molly,” he spat, looking Charlie up and down. “A round thousand will keep us quiet. We saw you.”
Chapter 11
Charles’ head was racing but he remained absolutely calm. Service? He watched the men carefully. They were hard men, of that there was no doubt and there was only one way to deal with that in his book. They were outnumbered, but Charles had the advantage of surprise.
“Are you threatening me?” Charles asked with a smile.
The big man grinned and glanced back at the other two. “You could say that. I don’t believe you’ve spent the night with Harry without fucking him, he’s one of our best whores, so I want the money for the service because that belongs to Dante as surely as if you’d fucked him in the brothel, and some to keep my mouth shut.”
Charles looked at Harry. He was frozen. His face was a mask of horror. Charles didn’t want to think about how much truth might be in the man’s words, but he wasn’t prepared to be blackmailed in his own home.
“Well, now,” he said rubbing his chin. “That’s a shame.”
“What’s a shame, molly boy?” The man grinned.
“I was quite willing to give you the three hundred.” He took the notes out of his pocket, waved them at the man but then put them back. “But now I’m going to have to kill you.”
He said it in a very matter of fact way, but at the same time pulled one of the pistols from his waist, pointed it at the man, and fired.
The sound in the confines of the hall was deafening, and the smoke almost choked them. The man screamed and went down. It was only a flesh wound to the arm, but it would take him a moment or two to realise that. The other two men shouted as he pulled out the second pistol and his throwing knife. One swift, hard throw and it was embedded in the thigh of one, and he pointed the pistol at the heart of the other.
“Get out of my house.” He didn’t raise his voice.
The uninjured one dragged his comrades as they scrambled and staggered out and Charles slammed the door behind them and threw the bolt.
* * * *
Harry’s legs almost gave way. He had never seen anything like it in his life. Bill Mosely, Dante’s brutal muscle, reduced to a quivering mass of tears and snot by the quiet, unassuming man standing before him. Charlie looked at him for a moment. It was a searching look, but then he took him by the arm and led him back to the study.
“I think you had best tell me all. They will no doubt be back.”
Harry crumpled into the chair by the fireside and ran a hand over his face, closing his eyes for a moment as he steeled himself.
“From the beginning? We may not have a lot of time,” Charlie prompted.
Harry sucked in a breath, straightened his spine, and stared into the fire. His head and ears were still ringing with the spectacle that he had just witnessed. He looked up at Charlie, seeing him in a new light, but he needed to pull himself together. It was time for the truth no matter what it cost. The words came out in a tumble.
“My father died in the war and my mother took up with another man. I hated him and he hated me. I kept out of his way and worked on a farm in the summer and in inns where I could find work in the winter. I gave as much to my mother as I could, and kept myself to myself.” He paused and steadied his breathing and clenched his hands into fists to stop them shaking. “For as long as I…I always…” he coughed. “I like men. Always have. My stepfather caught me with another man.” He nodded. “Caught me.” The memory of it robbed him of words. He couldn’t look at Charlie. “He wasn’t big enough to take me on, I was almost twenty by then, so he waited and got friends. They set on me and…yes…well…I nearly died.” He sucked in another breath. “Anyway, he told the whole village and I was run out with no money. Everyone I’d ever known, friends…they…” He cleared his throat.
“I went to London and looked for work and a place to stay but the city was full of men looking for work after the war and, after I almost starved, I worked out that men will pay me to fuck them, or to let them fuck me. So that’s what I did.”
“I see,” Charlie said softly and Harry couldn’t even begin to work out what he meant by that.
“Then I met a man. He was handsome and kind, and he said he would look after me. He took me off the street to his club. It was a club where rich men went and paid for a night with another man in safety and comfort, not down the back of an alley. At first, they gave me rich, young, handsome men to entertain which was no real hardship at all. They gave me a beautiful room, food and clothes, champagne, and they gave me money to gamble with.” Harry rubbed the back of his neck. “And I gambled. Hell, did I gamble.”
He fell silent for a moment, and risked a glance at Charlie, who had sat himself on the other chair facing the fire. He was watching him carefully, but his expression was blank so Harry couldn’t tell what he was thinking. He carried on. “So then, when I was completely sucked into the life they gave me, he told me how much I owed him. Said I had a gambling debt, but that it would all be right as ninepence because I could work for him and pay him back. He took back all the money that I had earned, moved me into a tiny room in the attic and I shared with a couple of other chaps that were in the same position. It was damp and cold, and then all I got was dirty, stinking old men. He gave me pennies and I had to feed myself from that although they gave me decent clothes.”
“So he lured you in and then turned the screw?” Charlie said.
“Exactly. I was stuck owing a sum of money that I could never hope to pay back. I ran away a few times but they always found me because everyone knows Dante and is terrified of him. The last time I ran they…if I thought the beating my mother’s husband gave me was bad…” He shuddered at the memory. “They gave me to Bill Mosely, the man you shot just now…” Harry couldn’t speak any more.
“I wish I had known. I would have shot him in th
e heart,” Charlie said in a conversational tone that made Harry blink.
“Anyway, it didn’t take me long to realise that was what they did because I saw it happen time and time again. They lured in young men who had nothing, and then trapped them. I tried to warn a couple but they didn’t believe me.” He rubbed a finger over the leather of the chair arm and watched its progress. “Anyway,” he said after taking a couple of deep breaths. “I worked out that I could get out and get out of London. I thought about going to Leeds but decided that would probably be even worse. I friend of mine went to work on the fishing boats in Scarborough so I decided to head for there. I’d always wanted to see the sea.” He glanced up at Charlie but looked back down. “The stagecoach runs from London; takes a day or two, so I managed to steal enough money for a ticket, a few shillings in my pocket, and I had it all planned. I was on the verge of leaving when…” He swallowed. “When they brought in Julian.”
Harry wasn’t sure, but Charlie seemed to tense. Harry looked over at him, remembered fury burning his stomach as he sought the words to explain to Charlie just how sordid, how dreadful his life was. In the end, he could only state the truth.
“Julian is twelve. His balls haven’t even dropped.” Harry said and looked at his lap. I hadn’t realised that they made boys—” he gestured, “—but they did.” Harry covered his eyes for a moment and then looked up at Charlie. “They had done pretty much the same to him, and he was horribly battered about.” Harry shook his head. “Anyway, they brought him back in the day I ran, so I took him with me. I grabbed him and ran.”
“What happened?”
“Well, I patched him up as best I could so he didn’t look too bad, but I only had one stagecoach ticket, and not enough money for another, but with a bit of flummery we managed to make it look like we had two and off we went. Thought I’d done a good job, but then the driver realised he had more passengers than had paid and it was either me or Julian. So I left him on the coach; told him to get to Scarborough and wait for me. Told him to leave a message at the inn at the end of the route and I set off on foot. I was going to see if I could steal a horse or beg a ride, but then it started to snow so badly I could hardly see and it was so cold.” He shuddered, remembering the fear that had gripped him when the thought he was going to freeze to death. I thought I’d had it until I saw the light in your window.”
