Home Is the Sailor

by Lee Rowan

And now, at least, he’d be able to keep the girls safe.

  Chapter 7

  “IT HAPPENED there.” Davy paused at the top of the slope that led down to the stream and the pool that formed where the swift-flowing water had scoured out the hollow between half a dozen boulders. “Not really a difficult climb, is it?”

  Will studied the scene. “But there are rocks,” he pointed out. “Easy enough to trip and fall. Oh, get back, will you?” He gave a gentle shove to the liver-and-white spaniel that had accompanied them—Spark, the dog that had been with Mark on his last ill-fated shoot. Davy had suggested they take a walk after breakfast and bring the beast along. He had stuck close to them, whining now as they descended to the area where the grass had been trampled into a churned-up mass of refrozen mud.

  “They’ve made a mess of it,” Davy said. As if agreeing with him, the dog went straight to the middle of the disturbed area, sniffed around at a darkened patch of ground, then sat down and howled. “Hush, old boy. That won’t bring him back.”

  The animal shook itself and ambled over to Will, leaning heavily against him, panting. “Too bad he can’t speak,” Will said.

  “Isn’t it, though? All we need is one witness.” Davy climbed back up to the highest point and looked around him, down the other side of the hill to a small patch of woods. “Out of sight of the house and the Dower House, the barns are behind that spinney….” His eye seemed to stop at a point in the woods. “Oh, not that.”

  “What is it?”

  “The way the land slopes, there’s no place in cover that would give a clear shot at a man standing here,” Davy replied, “except one. D’you see that tree—the tallest one? It would be a clear shot, straight across, from up in the branches. A long way, even with a rifle, but not impossible.”

  Will walked up the grassy incline with the dog gamboling around him. “What do you mean?”

  “There’s a perfect sniper’s post in that tree. I never thought of it that way as a child, but it would be ideal. If it’s still there, of course. It might not be. And we must find out if it is. Come along.”

  Puzzled, Will followed, expecting it would all make sense at some point. “And how shall we do that?”

  “Didn’t you ever climb trees when you were a boy, Will?”

  “Of course.”

  “So did I. In fact, I persuaded one of the stable boys to help me build a treehouse in that very oak.” He pointed to a venerable giant that grew amid a stand of smaller trees, its trunk so wide he and Will would not be able to span it with their arms even if they reached around from opposite sides. “I used to sit up there when guests were expected—you can see all the way to the main road—then climb down with just enough time to run back and change into proper clothes before they reached the house. I could see for miles around, including the pool. I never thought that Ronald would discover my sanctuary.”

  “Unless he’s much more agile than he looks, I would not think it now. Shall we go up and find out?”

  “Yes.” Davy grinned at the worn shooting jacket Will had borrowed, and his own old clothing. “Just as well we wore these, is it not? The trick is that you must begin on the smaller tree beside it, and climb across.” He suited the action to the word, seizing a branch just over his head and swinging up to it. “Come, Will!”

  Ascending the oak presented no difficulties to two young men who had spent their years as midshipmen skylarking among the shrouds of a frigate. The day was mild and sunny, with very little breeze, and the rough bark provided plenty of handgrips. Will felt entirely alive for the first time since they’d arrived, finally able to challenge his body in an activity he enjoyed.

  He let Davy lead the way, admiring the view from below. From the speed and ease with which he moved, Davy had clearly recovered from his old injury. On the ground below, the abandoned spaniel barked a couple of times, then forgot all about them when a squirrel ran across his path. The squirrel sped toward another tree with the dog on its tail. Will laughed under his breath and kept climbing.

  Davy stopped suddenly, some thirty feet in the air. “It’s still here!” he said. Peering past him, Will could see a loose heap of dead leaves. As Davy brushed them away, he could make out the corner of a wooden structure that was clearly not a part of the tree’s natural form. “Still here, and in better trim than I expected.” He cleared away the rest of the debris and waved an arm. “Welcome to my fighting top, Captain!”

  Two branches of the tree grew within a few feet of each other, and several boards had been laid across them and nailed down, forming a platform five or six feet long and three or four wide. A snug little hideaway any boy would be proud of, it was nearly invisible from below even in winter, thanks to the heavy branches that grew out on either side to serve as rails. When the tree was in leaf, this nest would be completely invisible.

  “All sound,” Davy said, walking about and testing the boards. No fool, he was keeping a prudent hand on a smaller branch, thicker than his arm, that stretched across the top of the platform at shoulder level. “I shouldn’t wonder if young Jesse’s father added more nails than we ever did. I thought this would be long gone by now.”

  “Who is Jesse?”

  “One of Hubbard’s boys. He’s at the home farm now, I believe, looking after the draft horses, but this would be a grand place to get away on a Sunday afternoon.” Davy sat down on the boards, leaning against a sturdy limb. “Have a seat, Will. It’s not so impressive as my father’s house, but I confess I’m more comfortable here than indoors.”

  Will joined him, finding himself at ease for the first time in days. “A very fine retreat indeed, Mr. Archer. Did you ever bring your sister up here?”

  Smiling, Davy shook his head. “Lord, no. At this height, in her skirts? Far too dangerous. You would not credit how careful I was, Will. We had a rope that we slung down to the lowest branches, just in case we should lose our grip on the tree itself. Jesse would have been held accountable if I’d broken my neck, you see, and of course I was responsible for his safety. And really, it is a long way up.”

  “This is good work for a couple of youngsters.”

  “Better work than we did, I’m sure—that’s why I think his father may have come up and made sure we wouldn’t break our necks.”

  That answered a question Will had not wanted to ask; he knew it was ridiculous to be jealous of Davy’s childhood playmates. “How old were you?”

  “Oh, ten or eleven. Just old enough to handle the lumber and tools. I never told anyone we meant to put the thing so far up in the tree, of course, but the branches made a natural frame for it. And no one ever found me up here.” He looked very pleased with himself, and far more relaxed than at any time since they’d come to Grenbrook.

  Will looked around, saw nothing but branches and sky. He leaned over to look down the way they’d come and saw only Spark, making himself comfortable among the gnarled roots below. “I suppose the dog would bark if anyone were to approach,” he said.

  “He would if it were Ronald. Why do you ask?”

  Trying not to raise his own expectations, Will leaned over and captured Davy’s lips. After a moment’s hesitation, they opened beneath his. He took his time with the kiss, hungry after all the time they’d been together when he dared not even think of touching him. “I know we agreed not to do anything improper in your father’s house,” Will murmured, “but since you say this is your sanctuary….”

  “You’re mad,” Davy said, throwing an arm around his neck. “Come here.”

  Will had not realized how much he’d missed Davy’s touch. As their lips met again, his whole body felt aflame. He slid a hand down to Davy’s rear, pulling their bodies together, and felt Davy’s fingers tighten on his thigh. “What would you like?”

  “Nothing too complicated, it’s cold and I’ve no grease. Doesn’t matter.” His hand traveled over to Will’s fly and began fumbling with the buttons. “Just want to touch you. Never thought we’d have a chance here—”

  �
��It’s been too long.” Will didn’t bother with buttons; he slid his own hand down the front of Davy’s trousers and felt the warm shape of his cock standing at attention through the heavy fabric. Davy sighed and arched upward. Will reached a little farther and cupped Davy’s balls while pushing him flat to administer a deep, thorough kiss. The moist heat of his mouth was a sharp contrast to the winter breeze on their faces. “God, I’ve missed this.”

  “Watch out,” Davy warned. “My hand’s cold.” And it was, but after a startled gasp, Will simply relaxed into the sensation of Davy’s hand around him. Cold or warm, he was not going to complain.

  He managed to get Davy’s fly open to return the favor, but gave up his original plan when Davy pulled him down atop him. “Cold, are you?”

  “Not in the least.” Warm breath sent a tingle through him as Davy nuzzled his ear. “Warmer all the time.” He thrust up, and Will found himself drowning in the delicious urgency. So good… and it would be over so quickly….

  He caught himself and gazed down at the dreamy face beneath his own, Davy’s lips parted a little, his face flushed. “Must we hurry?”

  Davy squeezed his arse with both hands. “Yes!”

  “No.” He softened the word with another kiss, pressing down to force their cocks tighter together. “Who knows when we’ll get back here? Let me—” He ran out of words; he was never good with words. Instead, he moved back a bit and opened Davy’s coat, unbuttoning the waistcoat beneath, then pushed his shirt up far enough to slide his hand up under the shirt. As he’d expected, the nipple he found was hard and sensitive, and he muffled Davy’s cry of pleasure with his mouth. All these were things Davy had taught him, in the slivers of time they had together; it really was better to give than to receive. Cradling Davy’s head on one arm, he let the other hand travel over chest, belly, and lower, letting his fingers touch and tease, moving from one place to another until Davy was writhing in sweet frustration.

  Davy got hold of him again, and that was sweeter still, but he resolutely pushed the hand away and shifted so he could kiss where his hand had been. When his mouth reached its target, Davy rebelled, rolling to one side so he could reply in kind.

  And he returned the attention with interest. Will lost himself in the overload of sensation, each move of Davy’s quivering body setting off a spasm in his own. It seemed to go on forever, but ended much too soon.

  When the world began to spin back into place, he sighted along the length of his body and saw Davy’s wicked grin. The first words out of his lover’s mouth were “Good thing the boards held, wouldn’t you say?”

  Will groaned. “A fine tangle we’d have made below.”

  “Yes, and proved all my brother’s worst suspicions. But I did check her for soundness, Captain, and she proved steady after all.”

  “Mm.” Will fished out his handkerchief and tidied up as best he could, then stole a few kisses that were surrendered without protest. When he got his breath back, he recalled the original purpose of their visit and raised his head above the railing as a sniper might. “Davy.”

  He was doing up his buttons. “Hm?”

  “Do I understand that you have not been up here for some years?”

  “Yes. Seven or so, at a guess. Why?” He gathered himself together and sat up, brushing dust from his jacket.

  “It seems the tree went on growing after you left. Look here.” It might have been possible to fire through the tangle of young branches that stretched between the aerie and the fishing pool, but only a madman would have expected to hit his target with a single shot. “No one could shoot toward the pool from this angle. If anyone tried, there’s no telling where the ball might go. If he had several shots to find his range, it might be done, but even then, firing downward, through obstruction…. It’s too much risk with too little chance of success.”

  “What?” Davy scrambled to his knees and followed the line of Will’s finger. “I see. Well, we must look around below, then.” He shook his head in mock regret. “I suppose coming up here was a foolish thing to do.”

  “Not at all,” Will said, still happily mellow with the afterglow. “I think this is the finest place on the entire estate.”

  “It’s always been a favorite of mine,” Davy agreed. “Though I admit, never for the same reason. But—”

  “What of that building? A gazebo, perhaps?”

  “What gazebo? There’s nothing built out here.”

  “There, beyond the shrubbery.” A dense hedge of tall evergreens—holly, Will thought—had screened it from view as they’d approached the oak, but from above he could see a roof of some kind, indistinct amid the lower branches of smaller trees. “If you were thinking of a shot from cover, what could better serve the purpose?”

  “That’s new to me. Let’s go down and have a look.”

  Once on the ground, Will had to deal with the enthusiastic welcome of the spaniel, who acted as though he’d been abandoned for weeks. When the dog finally settled down, Davy led the way around the holly bushes and trotted up to the top of the stairs. The structure was set high, no doubt with the same purpose as the crow’s nest up in the tree, and the cast iron framework blended with the gray-brown trunks and branches around it. “This would be a good place for a picnic in summer. Shady and cool, with a view of the water. I wonder if it was Mark’s idea.”

  Will ascended to the platform with the dog still tagging at his heels. His assessment was military, not pastoral—if one wanted to set a sniper in ambush, the placement could hardly be better, save for the distance. It was high enough, just barely. “It’s a clear shot, but not an easy one. How good a marksman is your brother?”

  Davy moved closer, sighting along the line of fire. “Good enough. Dangerously good. And he could wait comfortably, out of sight.” He motioned toward low benches set along the railing on three sides. “Easy to brace the rifle and take aim—Will, look here!”

  At his feet was a small dark patch, black against the floorboards. “I think this might be—” He touched it experimentally, and his finger came away with a smudge that he sniffed. “Gunpowder.” Brushing his fingers together, he said, “Very fine-grained gunpowder.”

  Will frowned at it. “So it appears someone loaded a gun here. But your brother was shot—what, a month ago? Would it lie undisturbed that long?”

  “Not so long as that, Will. Less than three weeks. And this site is sheltered by the roof as well as this bench, and this powder was ground into the floor. I’d say someone spilled a bit, then stepped in it when he rose.” He tried to shoo Spark off the gazebo, but he and Will both had to leave it in order to get the animal to follow them.

  Will began to have second thoughts about the assumption they were making. “This could mean someone lay in wait for your brother, but it’s by no means certain. What if someone else—”

  “Who? And whatever for? Will, there’s nothing to hunt right now but rabbit and wood-pigeons. At this time of year, there’s not much in the garden for rabbits to destroy, though I suppose some of the men might hunt for the pot. Even so, this is hardly the place anyone would ambush a rabbit.”

  “Could you discover for certain whether anyone did go out?”

  “I can ask Amelia, and the gamekeeper ought to know, but only consider—Mark died in a hunting accident at the very end of the hunting season. I think it will be spring before anyone can pick up a gun without thinking of that. I know this powder is not proof of anything, but you must admit it’s damned peculiar.”

  “It is that. But as you say, the only thing it proves is that someone had powder here. It wouldn’t even necessarily mean there was a gun. Someone might have shaken a little loose powder out of his pocket when he sat down.”

  “Out here? In the dead of winter? Why?”

  “Why not?” Will caught himself, trying not to show his impatience at the circular argument. “Davy, only think a moment. If it’s been here since that day, why could it not have been your brother Mark, resting his feet? We know he was ou
t here.”

  “We also know that Mark never stopped to rest when he was hunting. He was always active, always on the move.” Davy’s hand flashed in an impatient gesture. “I’m sorry, Will, of course you don’t know that. But when he was out in the field, Mark’s motto was ‘If you need to sit down, you ought to go home.’”

  “Oh, was it?” The last thing they needed was a quarrel with over something so insignificant. “I didn’t mean—”

  “No, no, my fault,” Davy said quickly. “And, of course, anything is possible. Knowing Mark, it’s unlikely, but I shan’t argue the point. If you can’t believe me, you can’t; that’s an end to it. We can only be sure that someone was here with gunpowder. If you insist, I shall even admit that there is no proof he had a weapon with him.”

  “No, that would be foolish. It is fair to assume the presence of a gun, but the identity of its owner is all conjecture.”

  “And no way to prove or disprove my suspicion, I know. No proof of anything.” He seemed about to continue along that line, then said abruptly, “We had better get back to the house and change out of these damp clothes.”

  “I agree. We have learned all we can for the present. Am I fit for polite company?” Will asked, turning around so Davy could see if there were still leaves clinging to his back.

  “No more than usual, though I detect a hint of satisfaction in your manner. Nothing that suggests improper activity, Will. And I?”

  Will checked him over with loving care. Buttons done up properly, a few smudges on the back of the jacket… and a faint lessening of the tension that had been riding his shoulders since they’d arrived, though he was obviously disappointed that their expedition had not been more successful. “You’ll do.”

  THEY MANAGED to detach Spark when they were leaving their boots and heavy coats in the back entryway, near the kitchen. The dog’s sudden attachment to Will proved a frail reed in comparison to the allure of a ham bone the cook had saved for him. “Fickle beast,” David said.