by Merry Farmer
“Niall always was the more practical of you two,” Ian said.
Both Niall and Blake turned to glare at him. Whether it was the truth of what Niall said or the absolute certainty of victory in Ian’s stance, Blake’s shoulders sagged. He rubbed a hand over his face and let out a heavy breath. “I don’t trust them,” he said as quietly as he could, meeting Niall’s eyes. “I can’t help but feel that if we don’t take the children now, I will never get them back.”
“Do you trust Annamarie?” Niall asked, gripping Blake’s upper arms. “Do you truly believe the mother of your children would harm them or allow them to be harmed?”
Blake sent a mournful look past Niall to Annamarie. Annamarie stood hugging herself and looking miserable.
“You know I wouldn’t hurt them,” she said. It was the first genuine thing she’d said in the entire confrontation.
Blake nodded slowly. He cleared his throat and rolled his shoulders. “All right. We’ll find the medallion and return it to you. I’ll bring a bank draught, and when you hand over the children, make sure it is honored.”
“Excellent.” Ian clapped his hands together and rubbed them. “I trust three days is enough time for you to accomplish all of that?”
Blake looked like he would argue, but Niall answered, “Yes,” for both of them.
“Good.” Ian said. Niall gestured for Blake to leave with him, but before they could so much as turn around, Ian said, “Oh, there is one other thing I want from you as part of this deal.”
Dread pooled in Niall’s stomach. He should have known. “What?” he snapped, turning back to Ian.
“I want the two of you to make your affair public.”
Niall’s chest constricted. He glanced to Blake, who looked equally gob-smacked. “We’ll be arrested,” he said, seething.
Ian grinned as though that were his point. “You might be,” he said. “Blake is a duke. I’m sure he can figure out a way for his title to protect him.”
“I won’t put Niall in danger that way,” Blake growled.
Ian shrugged. “Then Annamarie and I will just have to pack up our things and sail on the next ship headed for New York.”
All color left Blake’s face. Niall boiled with rage. Somehow, Ian had them up against a wall. He knew Ian detested Blake, but he hadn’t thought Ian hated him that much. Then again, if his intent was to wreak revenge on Blake, ensuring that he would forever be kept apart from his lover while also exposing him to the worst sort of scandal would be an effective way of doing that.
The one glimmer of hope was that Ian had no idea how many options for protection men like him and Blake actually had.
“Fine,” Niall answered on both his and Blake’s behalf. “We’ll do whatever it takes as long as you stick to your end of the agreement and return Blake’s children to him in three days’ time.”
“I’ll uphold my end of the bargain as long as I have proof you’ll uphold yours,” Ian said.
Niall nodded to him, then grabbed Blake’s hand and marched away.
“What are you doing?” Blake hissed, trying to yank his hand out of Niall’s. “This whole thing is madness. He’s going to try to trick us.”
“Of course, he is,” Niall said, gripping Blake’s hand more firmly. “Hold my hand so that he thinks it’s a sign we’re willing to expose ourselves.”
“But we can’t. I won’t put you in that sort of danger,” Blake insisted.
Niall laughed grimly. “First of all, I’m far smarter than Ian ever was, and so are you,” he said. “Secondly, there’s nothing that says we can’t trick him the same way he’s trying to trick us.”
Blake paused to glance anxiously at him as they reached the garden gate.
“Trust me, Blake,” Niall said. “We will win in the end. I promise.”
Chapter 18
Blake was numb for the entire journey back to Leeds from Blackpool. His heart told him that he was a horrible father for leaving his children without trying harder to extract them. But his head argued that Annamarie would remain true to her word and keep them safe, so he wasn’t an utter failure after all. His head also argued that Ian couldn’t be trusted and that Annamarie was blind when it came to anyone who flattered her the way she wanted to be flattered. And on top of that argument, his heart told him to trust Niall with his life, that Niall would ensure that everything worked out in the end.
“Are you quite all right?” Niall asked them when they finally stepped down from the carriage they’d hired in Leeds to bring him home to Selby Manor. “You’ve been uncharacteristically withdrawn since we left Shell Cottage.”
Blake sent him a wry, exhausted look. “I suppose I’ve run out of things to say at this point.”
“You? Running out of things to say?” Niall ribbed him as they mounted the stairs and entered the house.
Blake noted that Charles, his first footman, held the door for them, not Dobson. He responded to Niall’s teasing with a weak laugh, then asked Charles, “Did Dobson hand in his notice?”
Charles looked both startled and anxious, “Um, yes, your grace.”
Blake nodded and pursed his lips, both disappointed and wary. “Did he say why?”
“No, your grace, he just left.” Charles shrugged and shook his head, gesturing for one of the younger footmen who loitered in the hall to hurry out to the carriage to fetch Blake’s and Niall’s bags. “Unless he told Mrs. Crocker, that is.”
“Thanks. Tell Mrs. Crocker I’ll speak to her in my office as soon as I’ve cleaned up a bit,” Blake said, walking on.
“Yes, your grace.”
Blake glanced over his shoulder to make sure Niall was following him. “I suppose this is where you tell me you were right, I told you so, and that I’m too trusting of people.”
Niall made a noncommittal sound. “If Dobson values his career as a butler, he’ll keep your secrets to himself. No one wants to hire staff who spills their secrets at the slightest provocation.”
“True.”
Blake continued on, hoping it was true. Then again, if Dobson blabbed about what he’d seen in the parlor several evenings before, Ian would be one step closer to having his demands filled.
“I’m going to have Xavier ask a maid to draw me a quick bath,” he said as they reached his wing of the house, surprised at how clear his mind felt for a change and how easily he could make a list of everything he needed to do, now that he’d seen his children were safe. “Do you want me to have one brought up for you as well?”
A grin tugged at the corners of Niall’s mouth that had all of Blake’s thoughts scattering in an instant. “I’m half tempted to share your bath,” he said in a quiet voice as they approached the doors to their rooms. “But it’s late, I’m exhausted, you have a housekeeper to speak with, and we have a blasted medallion to find.”
Blake shared Niall’s wicked grin for a moment, enjoying the casual arousal that pulsed through him. It was so good to feel that way as a matter of course, even if there was nothing he could reasonably do about it at the moment. In spite of the mountain of catastrophes falling down around him and the fact that his children still hadn’t been returned—and that the conditions for their return were so outlandish—Blake felt whole in a way he hadn’t for too long.
“I still can’t figure out why on earth Ian would care so much about a musty old school prize,” he said as he reached his door and grasped the handle. He paused to think about it and glanced at Niall, who stood similarly paused by the door to his room. “I know he was expecting to score top marks on that exam, but it was just an exam.”
“It was his pride,” Niall said, ever the voice of reason. “But I also seem to recall that he kept harping on about the monetary value of the medallion itself.”
Blake shook his head and shrugged. “Why bother with a medallion, no matter how valuable, and ask for half a million pounds at the same time?”
“Again,” Niall said, frowning in thought, “pride. Or else the medallion is worth more than half
a million pounds.”
“I doubt it,” Blake huffed a laugh. “More likely Ian thinks I’ll renege on my deal to give him the money.”
“Is that what you plan to do?” Niall’s brow lifted. “Maybe hand him a fake bank draught?”
He hadn’t thought so at the time he’d made the deal, but eight hours of traveling across the north of England by Niall’s side and the satisfaction of making love to his heart’s one true desire had filled him with a steadiness and confidence he thought he’d lost.
“We’ll see,” he said with a saucy wink, opening the door to his room.
An uncanny feeling of optimism stayed with him as he bathed and changed into clean clothes. In spite of the frustration of the encounter at Shell Cottage and Ian’s bullish and nonsensical demands, Blake felt as though he could see the light at the end of the tunnel. Washing and changing felt symbolically like sloughing off the misery of recent years in favor of purpose and love. As paradoxical as it felt, a large part of him was grateful to Ian for swooping in when he did and removing the thorny problem of Annamarie from his life. Obstacles or no, Ian had unlocked the cage Blake had been living in for years and enabled him to be set free.
And how bad could it be, really, if his unconventional relationship with Niall was exposed? He smiled over that question as he made his way down to his office to speak with Mrs. Crocker about Dobson. At least he had a relationship with the man he loved again. And he fully intended to grab hold of his feelings for Niall with both hands and never to let go again. Damn the consequences. He’d let Niall go once and it had ruined him in every way that counted. What did he care about being ruined in ways that didn’t matter as long as he could have Niall in his life and in his bed for the rest of their days?
“I’ve mitigated the damage as much as I can with the rest of the staff, your grace,” Mrs. Crocker reported to him half an hour later, her face stony and her back stiff. “Mr. Dobson said very little about his departure, but he did advise the rest of the staff that their morals may be in jeopardy if they stay.”
Disappointment pressed down on Blake. “And did he tell you why he left?” he asked, dreading the answer.
“Yes, your grace.” Mrs. Crocker admitted with a reluctant sigh.
“And?” Blake glanced expectantly at her.
“I’ve known you since you were in short pants, your grace,” she said. She paused, her face pinching harder, and went on as though it pained her to say what she needed to. “I’ve never seen you happier than in the last week, since Mr. Cristofori’s arrival. And I don’t mean that flippantly. He brings you joy like nothing else. And honestly, it’s a lesser sin than what your brother is guilty of.”
Blake nodded, but couldn’t think of anything more to say.
“That being said, your grace, if you will allow me,” she went on just as Blake was about to dismiss her. He nodded to her. She took a deep breath and continued. “If you intend to continue to pursue your happiness, might I advise you to take up residence in the family’s London house for a while? As I understand it, such things are overlooked in London. But not here in the country.” She paused again, more compassion coming to her expression. “No one would be the wiser, your grace. If, indeed, Lady Selby is not returning, and in light of your brother’s sins, they would find it perfectly understandable that you wouldn’t want to stay here.”
“Do you know, Mrs. Crocker,” Blake said, rising from his desk. “I completely agree.”
It was somehow cheering to know his housekeeper had come to the same conclusions about where his future lay that he had. By the time he’d dismissed Mrs. Crocker and headed back upstairs to find Niall, he’d all but made up his mind that once he had the children back, the whole lot of them would waste no time in packing everything up and moving to London, just like the dream he’d shared with Niall the night before.
“You wouldn’t mind, would you?” he asked Niall after explaining his conversation with Mrs. Crocker. “If we moved there immediately, without full planning? Just up and left? We could….” He stopped, biting his lip and glancing to Niall as though he were about to step off a ledge. “You could move into Selby House with us.”
Niall’s brow shot up so fast Blake thought he’d pull a muscle in his face. A moment later, Niall’s expression settled. “Let’s concentrate on finding the medallion first,” he said. “We need that to get the children, and we need the children before we can think about the future.”
It wasn’t the answer Blake wanted. In fact, Niall’s answer raised a storm of worry within him. Perhaps Niall didn’t think what they had was forever after all. Perhaps it was all just a bit of fun for him. Ten years had changed him, so who was to say it hadn’t changed Niall as well? Niall had mentioned he’d had other lovers since university. Perhaps he intended to—
“Blake,” Niall spoke pointedly, snapping Blake out of his thoughts. “That wasn’t a no. That was a ‘let’s deal with what’s in front of us first’.” Niall stepped forward, slipping a hand around to the back of Blake’s neck, then leaned in to kiss him fast and hard. The buss settled Blake’s nerves and brought him back into himself, particularly when Niall leaned back and grinned at him. “Stop looking as though you’ve seen a ghost and tell me where you last saw the medallion.”
Blake smiled, warmth infusing him. How had he managed to survive for ten years without Niall to guide and steady him?
“To tell you the truth, I have no idea,” he shrugged. “Everything from graduation day is a blur in my memory.”
“You were wearing the blasted thing when we parted ways,” Niall said, starting out of his bedroom, where Blake had found him, and making his way down the hall to the stairs.
“Was I?” Blake followed him.
Niall paused at the top of the stairs and turned to him with a humorless laugh. “Every last detail of the way you looked that day is burned in my memory forever, what you were wearing, the medallion, the shock and the grief in your eyes…everything.” He lowered his voice at the end of his sentence before moving forward again.
Blake grabbed his hand, tugging him back. When Niall met his eyes with surprise, Blake blurted, “I’m sorry.” Every bitter emotion he’d felt that day rushed back in on him, but for a change, those emotions felt distant and completed instead of fresh. “I did what I thought I had to do at the time. I didn’t see any choice back then. But I’d never loved anyone the way I loved you then,” he hesitated slightly before finishing with, “and the way I love you now. I never stopped loving you for an instant.”
A softness filled Niall’s eyes that made it look as though the years dropped away from him. In spite of the fact that they were standing at the top of a wide staircase in the center of Blake’s house, in full view of whoever might choose that moment to walk past, Niall stepped into him, taking Blake’s face in his hands and kissing him passionately. It was a kiss that seemed to reach into Blake’s soul, righting all the wrongs of the past.
“First we’re going to find that medallion,” Niall said, his voice hoarse with desire. “Then we’re going to go to bed and make love loud enough to have your father rolling over in his grave.”
A jolt of heat and excitement struck Blake like lightning.
“And after that,” Niall went on, “we’re going to march back to Blackpool and rescue your children, no matter what nastiness Ian attempts to throw at us. And when that’s done, like Greta and Siegfried, we are going to build our castle just the way we want it, and we are going to live happily ever after.”
Niall kissed him again, then broke away and charged down the stairs, leaving Blake reeling with joy and wanting to giggle like one of his girls.
“There wasn’t any castle in the play,” he said, following Niall down the stairs.
“I rewrote it,” Niall called over his shoulder as he reached the ground floor. Blake pointed toward the library, which was as good as any a place to start their search. When Blake caught up to him, Niall caught his hand and said, “I’ll rewrite it again and aga
in, if that’s what it takes to get the story right.”
Blake had never been so happy to spend an evening poring through every parlor, office, and closet in his house. He had no idea how massive the house was until he had to check every crevice and nook in search of the medallion. Neither the speed nor the efficiency of the search was helped at all by the way he and Niall kept finding themselves in deliciously close proximity as they pulled trinkets out of cabinets and checked dusty corners behind large pieces of furniture.
“It’s not in this vase,” Niall said, leaning across Blake and pressing his whole body against Blake’s in the process as he peered into an ugly old vase behind a settee in the library. The gesture bent Blake backwards over the settee, and Niall took advantage of the position to stroke his hands along Blake’s side and nibble at his earlobe. “It’s not behind the cushions of this thing either,” he added breathlessly, grinding his hips against Blake’s. They were both desperately aroused and growing more so by the second.
“It might be in the Egyptian parlor,” Blake panted, wanting nothing more than to twist in Niall’s embrace so that he bent forward over the back of the settee and to have Niall remove his trousers and bugger him into next Tuesday.
Niall pulled back, a comically puzzled look in his blue eyes to match his pink and swollen lips. “You have an Egyptian parlor?”
“It was Annamarie’s idea.” Blake struggled to stand straight, sliding his hands under Niall’s jacket to grip his sides and leaning closer to his mouth. “She likes Egyptian things.”
“Then why didn’t we check there first?” Niall pulled away from him just as Blake was about to seal their mouths together in a kiss.
Blake groaned and laughed as Niall sped away from him, sending a flirtatious look over his shoulder. They couldn’t find the medallion fast enough, as far as he was concerned. If they didn’t locate the blasted thing soon so that they could go to bed and satisfy each other in every way possible, Blake wasn’t sure he would be responsible for his actions.
His humor about the situation was dented slightly when their search of Annamarie’s Egyptian parlor turned up nothing.
