by Megan Derr
Turning back to Kelcey, Max reached up and gently touched his chest. "Are you all right?"
"What?" Kelcey jerked, froze, seemed to shake himself. "Yes. Fine. My apologies. I thought I saw someone I would prefer not to see."
"Have we been found already? Should we bolt? We can always say bugger to the ship and go somewhere else entirely."
Kelcey captured both of his hands, squeezed them. "No, we are quite fine, I promise. If I was concerned we had been found, we would already be running. I simply thought I saw someone I knew." He made a face. "A man who hired me once to do a job. It proved to be extremely unpleasant, and we did not part as friends. My apologies."
"Do stop apologizing for things that do not require them," Max said, pulling his hands free and capturing the sides of Kelcey's face, drawing him down into a brief kiss.
"So where did you want to eat?" Kelcey asked as he drew back.
"There's a place along the coast, just on the edge of the city. A bit of a walk—we may want to find a hackney once we're back to the main roads."
Kelcey offered his arm. "As you wish, my lord."
Max took it, squeezing briefly before relaxing his hold. "It's entirely possible the place is no longer there, but I remember it being excellent. If it's no longer in business, I suppose we can simply have dinner in our room."
"No complaints from me however the evening falls," Kelcey replied. "I can give a gift anywhere."
Drawing to a halt, Max tugged on his arm. "Gift? What gift? Give it to me now."
Kelcey burst out laughing. "You are the brattiest brat I have ever encountered."
"Then clearly you have lied all this time about knowing my sister, scoundrel," Max retorted. He pulled his hand free, grasped the lapels of Kelcey's jacket, and attempted to give him a shake. The endeavor was largely futile, as Kelcey had mass and muscle enough for two, but Max hardly minded that Kelcey used it to move in closer, bringing their bodies flush. The impropriety of it all should have given Max pause, gods knew he hated when Mavin's behavior got out of hand in public, but he really could not bring himself to give a damn. "Where is my present?"
Kelcey kissed his nose. "You'll get it when you get it, my lord. Shall we go to dinner? The sooner we are there, the sooner you get it, after all." He held out his arm again and Max took it.
The sky steadily clouded over as they walked, and a light rain began to fall just as they reached the restaurant, a beautiful building right up against the ocean that served exquisite dishes of all the local seafood. Even Max's parents had never had cause to complain about the place.
"Something by the window, please," Max said a hostess came to greet them. She smiled and bowed, led them through the quiet throng of the restaurant to a table tucked into a corner, with lush, white-flowered plants that half-shielded them from the rest of the restaurant, but with glass on both sides that allowed for a beautiful view of the ocean. "Thank you."
Max endured through the main course, but as their plates were taken away and wine glasses refilled, he finally lost his patience. "I want my gift."
"So like a lord," Kelcey replied. "Thinking that demands will always get you what you want. I have a great deal of experience with demanding lords. You will have to try harder than that."
Narrowing his eyes, he said, "I did not make you work for your surprise, sir."
Kelcey's grin was unrepentant. "That is your mistake. I am rather enjoying frustrating you, my lord."
"Frustration can be inflicted in both directions, and I can frustrate you while appeasing myself. Remember that."
"Indeed." Kelcey took a generous sip of his wine. "I'm not certain if that is a threat or encouragement."
Max folded his arms across his chest. "Give me my gift and you will not have to find out."
Kelcey just kept grinning. "Say 'please'."
Tossing his head, scoffing, Max replied, "I never use such words unless there is a hand upon my cock."
"That is a lie. You get even bossier."
"I think you are mistaken."
Kelcey's reply was forestalled as a server arrived to leave two bowls of rich custard, along with glasses of brandy. When he had gone again, Kelcey reached into his jacket and pulled out a small, worn-looking pillbox. It was the kind that Max's mother had owned practically by the crate. She had lost them so frequently, bought another, only for the servants to find the mislaid ones, until there had been more than Max could count lying about her bedroom and the music room where she'd spent so much of her time.
He took it as Kelcey held it out to him, heart thudding in his chest. What was Kelcey giving him? It rattled quietly as he took the pillbox, and despite his curiosity and teasing he almost gave it back. Casting Kelcey a curious look, further disquieted by the somber, slightly anxious look on his face, Max finally opened the pillbox.
Inside was a plain silver signet ring. Not one he recognized, just a … well, circle of linked circles, with a star in the center. Handsome, for all its simplicity. Max picked it up, noticed there was something written on the inside. Always question. He drew a sharp breath. "This belonged to your mother or father."
"Mother," Kelcey replied. "She'd given it to me that night before they tried to carry out their plan. She said I was old enough I should have a ring, too, that I could wear it around my neck until my fingers were big enough. It's funny all of the little things a child does not notice, that make so much sad sense later." His mouth twisted briefly. "Most of my family's belongings are long gone, but I retained a few trinkets. That's one of them. My fingers outgrew it years ago, and it is not advisable for me wear it anyway. My family's motto seems to suit you. It's not the fanciest ring, but …"
"I only do fancy when Mavin insists upon it." Max slid the ring on his left hand so that it mirrored the family signet on his right. He was absolutely certain he did not deserve something so important, did not understand why Kelcey was trusting it to him, but he was equally certain he would remove the head of whoever tried to take it from him. "Thank you. I am honored by such a precious gift."
Kelcey shrugged, but his smile widened slightly as he lifted Max's hand and ran a thumb over the ring. "It was just sitting around collecting dust. Better to put it to use, I should think."
Max twisted his hand to curl his fingers into Kelcey's. "I will treasure it always."
If Kelcey had pale skin, Max had no doubt that right then it would be the color of a ripe strawberry. "Here I was certain you would take the chance to jest about things being put to use."
"That was coming next."
Kelcey snorted. "Indeed."
Max picked up his spoon, mouth curving as he began to eat his dessert.
The smile did not fade the rest of the night, even when the rain returned abruptly halfway through their walk home and they reached their hotel soaking wet.
Chapter Eight
"I'm so very sorry, my lords." The coachman licked his lips, ducked his head, and Max could just see his throat working.
Max groaned. He was tired, his head hurt, and he was sore from having gotten off a cramped ship only to go straight into a cramped carriage. All he wanted was a hot bath and a warm bed. The whole rotten trip, from the rough sea trip to the jarring carriage ride, was not the fault of the coachman, and taking his ire out on the man would accomplish nothing. It was not as though he had arranged for the carriage wheel to break. "It's quite all right. You could not have known this would happen." He sighed and turned to Kelcey, whose expression was a thundercloud, the same expression he'd worn in that brief, strange moment outside the museum. Max liked it even less the second time. "Shall we remain here and wait for the new carriage, or return to town and take a fresh carriage in the morning? I am thinking a fresh start in the morning is the better option, but if you think otherwise …"
Kelcey never looked at him, never once took his eyes off the coachmen, and his stormy expression seem about to start in with lightning. Max nearly took a step back. He had never seen such a perfect example of a 'threatening l
ook'. He could practically see the words in cheap, heavy type, followed by a breathless description of long, raven locks blowing in an angry winter wind.
Except it wasn't winter and Kelcey barely had hair. "Whatever is the matter?"
"We are taking a horse and continuing on alone," Kelcey said, still not taking his eyes from the coachman, who started to speak, then shut his mouth with an audible clack and nodded. Kelcey jerked his head, and the man scrambled to unharness a horse.
Marvelous. He would be spending hours on a horse, bareback, with an angry husband, in the dark. The way their travels had gone since boarding that damned ship, the bloody rain would return and make of the affair a complete mess.
"I don't think—" He stopped as the coachman dropped down from where he had climbed up to pull something from the luggage packed atop the coach, holding a saddle. Well, that was something. He had not realized they had come so prepared; that must be Kelcey's doing.
He startled when Kelcey turned to him, grabbed his arm, and practically dragged him over to the readied horse. "On the horse, quickly now."
Max expected Kelcey to swing up behind him, but instead he rounded on the coachman, grabbed the front of his jacket, and yanked him in close. The tone of his voice gave Max chills. "If we come to harm, or any of our belongings fail to reach us, I will see you are made to painfully regret it. Do I make myself clear?"
"Y-y-yes, my lord."
"Good." Kelcey let him go—then grabbed the back of his head and slammed him face first into the carriage, then again, until the coachman dropped unconscious to the ground.
"What in the blood hell?" Max demanded.
Kelcey swung up smoothly behind him. "I will explain later, but right now we need to vacate the premises with all haste." He did not give Max a chance to reply, simply spurred their horse into moving as quickly as it could manage, traveling an unfamiliar path in the dark.
They had not been riding very long when Kelcey abruptly drew the horse to a halt. "What—"
"Shh."
Max shut his mouth and started to feel truly afraid, recalling the way Kelcey had looked at the coachman. He'd never sounded so cold before. What the devil was going on?
Kelcey swore softly, and then Max heard it: horses, at least a few of them, moving fast and getting closer. Not idle travelers if they were in that much of hurry despite the fact it was dark and the road was treacherous.
Clearly everyone else was aware of something, but no one had seen fit to keep him apprised.
Swearing again, Kelcey veered off the path and into the woods. Pressing his mouth close to Max's ear, he said, "Stay quiet, don't move. If I say run, then you do it. No hesitation, no questions, just go. Understand me?"
Max nodded. "Yes."
Kelcey pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, then dismounted and crept back to the path. Max quickly lost sight of him in the dark, but only a few moments later the horses came thundering past, guided by wildly swinging lanterns that briefly illuminated Kelcey where he was tucked up against a tree.
When the sound of the riders had faded, Kelcey returned to Max. "What in the bloody hell is going on?" Max hissed.
Kelcey pressed against Max's leg, shaking. He was laughing! "My lord, I should think you of all people would recognize highwaymen."
"This—" Max closed his mouth, huffed. "This is not how it happens in the books."
Kelcey swung up behind him, took hold of the reins, and looped one arm around Max's waist. "Books? Those stories you are always talking about? I hope they are not as bad as those silly erotic things my downstairs neighbor is always reading."
Max flushed hot and did not reply. Kelcey went still behind him, then dropped his head to muffle his laughter against Max's shoulder.
"Shut up," Max groused, and drove an elbow back into his gut. Unfortunately, all that did was make Kelcey laugh harder. "I hate you."
"Do you really—" Kelcey dissolved back into laughter, muffling it with his own hand that time.
"I am going to leave you for the highwaymen." Max elbowed him again. "No, I do not think real highwayman parade about forests on sexual escapades, you ass. I simply thought real highwaymen would be less dramatic than all those stupid books. Shut up."
Kelcey's laughter eased off slowly, and Max was only slightly mollified by the kiss pressed to his throat, the teeth that nibbled briefly on his ear. "I did not take you for the sort to read such books. You seemed more inclined simply to seek out pleasure when you wanted it, not the sort to prefer staying in and reading a naughty book."
"The books had their charms. Stop laughing!" He drove his elbow back again, squirmed to get away, and huffed when Kelcey just wrapped both arms around him and held him fast. "Unhand me, you bloody bastard."
"Not a chance. I can't get the image out of my head. This makes it vastly more interesting that you called me a highwayman."
The cool air washing over Max's hot cheeks did nothing to cool them. "I hate you."
Kelcey laughed, low and husky, in his ear. "Yes, I believe that's how all those naughty scenes begin. I do believe I have found a weakness to prey upon at a later time."
Muttering choice words at the effect those words were having, Max subsided with another huff and a good, hard smack to Kelcey's thigh. "I think right now you should probably focus on the real highwaymen, because they are much more likely to gut us than debauch us. One more word about my reading choices and those books are the only pleasure you'll be enjoying for a long time, sir."
"Yes, my lord," Kelcey said, and Max didn't need to see the unrepentant grin to know it was there.
"Be quiet and tell me what exactly is going on, and when we will be getting out of this damned forest."
Kelcey gaze his arms a gentle squeeze, then let go. "It's an old, but reliable trick. One member of the group, or a man they have bribed, takes the role of coachman. The coachman takes the passengers into the woods, or whatever, far enough along that help is difficult to reach. Once he reaches a predetermined spot, an accident occurs—broken wheel, injured horse, whatever forces the carriage to a standstill. After that … well, it depends entirely upon whom they've accosted. If the victim is wealthy, but unimportant, then they are either incapacitated or persuaded to walk back to town. Their belongings and money are stolen, but little to no harm befalls them unless they prove difficult, in which case they are definitely incapacitated, sometimes killed if matters go poorly. If the passenger is a valuable one, say for example the brother of a powerful Duchess … then the victim is almost always taken for ransom."
"I see," Max said quietly. He knew all too well what happened next. People taken for ransom usually wound up dead, because it was far too great a risk to let them live. He shivered. "I am grateful that you are here, sir, especially as they never would have been able to reach my sister to demand the ransom."
"Bah," Kelcey replied, voice full of bitter recrimination. "I should have been smart enough to have us remain in town for the night, and travel with the rest of our belongings in the morning. I am so accustomed to traveling alone that I forget at the worst times I am now married to a lord. I am sorry."
Max found the hand around his waist, tangled their fingers together. "There is no need to apologize, sir. I was the one who impatiently demanded we make for the hotel immediately because we are already two days late arriving. Without you, I would be in dire straits right now. Cease to be mad at yourself. How do we get out of here without running afoul of those scoundrels?"
"Unfortunately, the answer is 'we wait'. They will have to give up looking for us eventually, if only because they'll exhaust their horses, and men like that cannot afford to be cavalier with their mounts."
"Is it better or worse for us that they know we are aware of their scheme?"
"Better," Kelcey replied. "Men like that generally fall into two categories: mean and cowardly, or desperate. Mostly they are the latter, because most people are not criminals by choice. The mean ones will want to avoid a confrontation because our awareness mean
s they are far more likely to get hurt, even killed. The desperate ones will avoid us because they do not want anyone hurt. They'll loot the carriage and hide away a few towns over for a week or so, until they are certain there is no longer a wrathful lord at their heels."
Max shivered as a cold breeze swept over them, pressed back further into Kelcey's large frame and body heat. "And until they are well gone, all the wrathful lord gets to do is cool said heels."
Laughing softly, holding him more tightly, Kelcey nuzzled against his head and replied, "I'm afraid so. On the positive side, the weather is not as terrible as it could be, and we should not have to wait more than a couple of hours."
It should not have been possible to fall asleep, but as the fear and tension faded off they left a heavy exhaustion in their wake, and coupled with Kelcey's warmth it was far too easy to succumb …
Max jerked awake with a gasp, and froze as he realized he was moving. Horse. Highwayman. Every single part of him was stiff and sore. He groaned, tried to rub sleep from his eyes. "Where are we?"
"Finally awake, my lord?" Kelcey asked with a chuckle. "We are very near the city, and soon you will have a clean, warm bed to sleep in, and whatever else you desire."
"We will have a bed. I'm sorry I fell asleep and left you alone out here."
"Hardly alone. You mutter in your sleep, and you sound rather bossy about whatever it is; it's rather endearing. I'm glad you were able to rest."
"You must be exhausted."
"I would not protest a chance to sleep, but I've endured worse. Ah, and there is the city."
Noisy and cluttered and made of so much white stone that it was hard to look upon when the sun struck it. Once they reached the gates, it still took the better part of an hour to locate their hotel, get the room sorted out as they were three days late arriving, before Max was finally able to collapse into a mercifully soft chair.
