“I think I could bear your company for a sight longer than three days,” Ward replied. “You will be the one begging for respite from me.”
“You think so?”
“I’m a terrible travelling companion. I tend to forget I have company.”
Nicholas shrugged. “Well, if that’s the worst of it, I think I’ll be all right. I’m capable of amusing myself.”
They gazed at one another for a long moment, Ward still smiling like a fool. Nicholas was the first to look away, a faint flush over his high cheekbones.
“All right, then,” he said briskly. “Now that’s settled, I’m going to finish my dinner, though it’s probably cold by now.”
He took his seat again. Ward did likewise and discovered that he was hungry after all.
19th June 1853
The next Sunday, when Nick arrived at Varhak Manor, Ward once again suggested they go down to the Hole.
“The upper platforms are all in place now. I thought we could climb down and have a go at putting you into a trance down there.”
Nick raised a brow. “What about the sea spurts? How can I possibly concentrate while I’m being soaked with saltwater spray?”
Ward grinned. “Let’s give it a try. I don’t think it’s impossible. After all, I managed to go into a trance on board ship in the midst of a violent storm.”
“Hmmm.”
Ward elbowed Nick. “Come on. We’ll take oilskins with us so you won’t get too wet.”
Nick sighed. “Fine. I’ll give it a try.”
He tried to ignore the warm feeling Ward’s triumphant look gave him. The satisfaction he got from pleasing Ward troubled him.
It was a blustery day and the whistling, buffeting winds made conversation nigh on impossible on their way to the Hole, but Nick was happy to walk in silence. These last weeks, he’d discovered that Ward—sometimes eccentric, sometimes difficult—was actually a surprisingly easy person to be with. Not just easy to talk to, but easy to be quiet with too.
Ward seemed to understand Nick’s occasional need for silence, a need that went hand in hand with a somewhat contradictory and bone-deep loneliness right at Nick’s core. He found it difficult to reconcile these two complementary yet warring aspects of his character: his need for isolation, and how alone that isolation could make him feel.
From what Ward had said of his life, especially of that long period of childhood sickness, it was plain that he too had spent a great deal of time alone. Despite that—or maybe because of it—like Nick, he chose to go about his life in a way that guaranteed the continuance of his solitary ways.
Nick had thought that loneliness was the price he paid for preserving something more important and fundamental about who he was. But since he’d met Ward, Nick did not feel so lonely, not even when they were apart. He wasn’t sure why that should be, and in truth, it troubled him sometimes. What business did Ward have, easing Nick’s loneliness? Nick hadn’t asked to be his friend.
He glanced at the man who plagued his thoughts. Ward was trudging along beside him, one hand deep in the pocket of his coat, the other holding his hat in place, an overstuffed knapsack, packed with oilskins, bumping against his hip.
He must have sensed Nick’s attention because he returned Nick’s glance, a smile just touching his lips, a faint question in his eyes—till his attention was arrested by something over Nick’s shoulder, something that made him give one of his odd croaky laughs and exclaim, “Bloody hell, where’s he off to?”
Nick turned his head, looking for whatever it was. A second or two passed before he saw it: Snow, running hell for leather after a white-tailed rabbit he was nowhere near fast enough to catch. Actually no, it was two rabbits. The dog swung his head from side to side as the rabbits diverged, now running in different directions, before picking one and pelting after it.
Nick laughed too. “He can’t resist a rabbit. Don’t worry, he’ll come back once he tires out.”
They were nearing the Hole now. Nick pointed at one of the lightning rods Ward had erected around the crevice.
“Why did you put those up?”
“The rods? So I can work out here in a storm without fear of being struck. They should draw off any lightning strikes before they get anywhere near a person.”
The pointless fence round the Hole had been removed now, so Nick was able to step right up to the edge and peer inside without having to clamber over anything. And yes, there were the upper platforms Ward had spoken of, three of them, the first perhaps eight feet from the top and the next two at similar intervals further down.
Ward explained how the platforms were constructed and pointed out the ladders attached to the craggy wall of the crevice from which each platform could be accessed in turn.
“Very impressive,” Nick said. “Though I’m still doubtful you’ll be able to hypnotise me down there.” He glanced at Ward to share his amusement, but the man wasn’t looking at him—he was looking past Nick, his expression first merely frowning, then suddenly horrified.
“Oh hell,” he said, launching himself past Nick at a run. “Snowflake, stop!”
Nick whirled around on his heel as Ward sped past him to see that Snow’s sturdy white body was barrelling towards them, far too fast. With his blind eye on the side of the crevice, and his whole attention on the rabbit that streaked ahead of him, the dog didn’t seem to realise he was about to hurtle over the edge.
Ward pitched himself at Snow.
“Ward, no!” Nick yelled—he was already running, but he was one endless second behind Ward and could only watch as Ward’s upper body slammed down on the ground in front of Snow, bringing the dog up short, and his legs slid into the mouth of the zawn, his weight immediately dragging him down.
“Ward!” Nick yelled again, closing the distance between them as Ward scrabbled for purchase, desperate fingers clawing at the short, rough, cliff top grass, while his boots sent clods of mud and rocks tumbling down the yawning chasm.
Nick threw himself to the ground beside Ward, grabbing for the man just as he was about to slide right in. Somehow he managed to grasp one of Ward’s wrists, then reached down with his other hand to seize his elbow.
“Grab me with your other arm!” he cried. There was no platform below Ward, only the sheer drop to the sea below.
Gasping, Ward obeyed, reaching up to grip Nick’s sleeve with his free hand. Nick’s body shifted forward an inch or two in response to the man’s weight pulling at him, and he cursed. How could such a reed-slim man feel so suddenly, overwhelmingly heavy?
Ward stared up at him, green-gold eyes wide with panic. “I don’t want to pull you down!”
“You won’t,” Nick hissed, wrapping his free arm round a rocky outcrop at the edge of the crevice. “I’m steady now—but you have to try to pull yourself up. I can’t hold you like this for too long.”
Ward nodded. He looked terrified, but he firmed his jaw and swung his legs a few times—making Nick feel as though his arm was about to be torn out of its socket—till he managed to brace one foot against the wall of the crevice to steady himself. Then, white-faced, he used the wall and Nick’s aching arm and shoulder to slowly haul himself up, knotting his fingers into the sturdy tweed of Nick’s coat, and finally winding one arm round Nick’s neck, his grip painfully hard, the side of his face pressed up against Nick’s.
“Almost there,” Nick panted against Ward’s cheek, relief flooding him at that needy embrace. He began to edge his own body backwards in tiny increments, until Ward was able to inch his hips over the edge of the Hole, then get one leg up and over. Only then did Nick loosen his death grip on the rocky outcrop, bringing his other arm around Ward’s upper back and yanking him all the rest of the way out, out of that greedy maw.
Nick rolled onto his back, away from the edge, dragging Ward with him till Ward lay on top of him, his chest to Nick’s, their faces so close the ends of Ward’s dark-gold hair brushed Nick’s forehead. They were both breathing hard, and Nick’s heart was pounding with exhaus
tion and fear—and something else too. An undeniable excitement at Ward’s nearness, at the intimacy of his body lying flush against Nick’s while he stared into Nick’s eyes.
Neither of them pulled away. Neither sought to bring to an end this moment that had already stretched too long.
There was a question in Ward’s eyes.
Nick didn’t really make a decision as such. It was instinct that drove him to grasp Ward by the back of his neck and haul him into a hard, desperate kiss. He half expected Ward to wrench himself away, maybe even hit Nick. But it seemed Nick’s instincts were all right, because Ward didn’t do any of those things. Instead, he melted against Nick with a helpless groan, bringing their bodies even closer together and fisting his hands around the lapels of Nick’s tweed coat as he returned the kiss with urgent fervour.
Ward’s mouth was hard—painfully so—pressing Nick’s lips against his teeth. Nick drew back a little, then parted his lips to soften the kiss, and Ward’s small jerk of surprise at that was oddly touching. Loosening his rigid grip on Ward’s nape, Nick tunnelled his fingers into the man’s silky hair and slid his free arm around Ward’s waist, steadying him as Nick shifted their bodies into a more comfortable position.
Tentatively, Nick stroked his tongue over the seam of Ward’s closed, almost chaste mouth, his own mouth curving slightly when Ward finally opened to him with a small, surprised gasp. Ward was plainly unused to kissing, and that thought made Nick strangely giddy. He coaxed Ward into a deeper kiss, with tender, suckling pulls at his lips that soon had Ward writhing against him and Nick’s cock growing achingly hard in his drawers.
Somewhere at the back of his mind, Nick knew they were getting too carried away. That this was dangerously reckless behaviour, out here in the open. With a huge effort, he broke the kiss, rolling them over again till Ward was under him, flat on his back in the scrubby grass. Ward seemed dazed, his light-brown eyes darker than usual as his pupils pushed back the band of tawny iris.
“Kiss me again,” he whispered, lips barely moving.
When Ward whispered, his voice sounded quite normal. There was an inflection of yearning in it now that could not be discerned when he spoke in his customary bark.
Nick obediently lowered his head and brushed their lips gently together, even as he murmured, “We have to stop. It’s madness doing this out here in broad daylight.”
“You started it,” Ward said, arching up his hips for more contact. Nick could feel the subtle prod of his prick, muffled by layers of clothing. He moaned softly, shifting his own hips away.
“You’re right, I did,” he said, pressing his forehead against Ward’s before adding, “I think I lost my mind for a moment. I thought— Christ, Ward, I thought you were going to fall. I thought you were going to die. What possessed you? I’ve never been so damned relieved in all my life as when you finally dragged yourself out of there!”
Ward gave a breathy chuckle. “You kissed me because you thought I was going to die?”
Nick smiled, but he was serious when he answered. “I wouldn’t have had the nerve otherwise.”
Ward was silent for several moments. Then he swallowed and whispered, “In that case, it was worth it—almost dying, I mean.”
Nick’s heart thudded so hard he was sure Ward must feel the beats as well as he did.
“It was very foolhardy of me,” he said. “I had no reason to believe you were like me. You’ve never—” He broke off suddenly, eyes widening. “That is— Oh Christ, are you like me?”
Ward’s green-gold eyes danced with amusement and he gave a croaky laugh. “Oh, yes. You don’t need to worry about that, Nicholas.”
God, but he was comely.
Nick stared at Ward, unable to drag his gaze away, even as he said faintly, “We need to get up. What if someone sees us like this?” Ward didn’t argue with that, but when Nick made to shift away, Ward lifted a hand to his face, halting him. Keeping their gazes locked.
“All right,” he whispered urgently. “But stay with me tonight. Instead of going home after dinner, come to my bedchamber.” When Nick hesitated, he added, “Pipp is the soul of discretion, I promise you. All my servants are.”
Nick closed his eyes briefly. It was a terrible idea. He had a score of objections. And yet he found himself yearning to agree.
He settled on a compromise.
“I won’t stay the whole night,” he said at last. “But I’ll stay for a while after dinner. How’s that?”
Ward’s smile was dazzling.
“Wonderful,” he said.
From The Collected Writings of Sir Edward Fitzwilliam, volume I
From time to time, my father would ask me to perform some of my experiments for one of his guests or a curious neighbour. It felt rather like conducting a magic show—I must admit I rather enjoyed provoking gasps of surprised delight with my demonstrations of static electricity and electromagnetic current and Leyden jars. The difference between a scientist and a magician, however, is that while the magician’s purpose is to pretend he is producing things out of thin air, a scientist’s purpose is to explain that there is no such thing as “thin air.” To show instead that the air around us is a complex, luminiferous ether through which invisible forces and subtle bodies move, if we could but see them.
Ward didn’t taste a single bite of his dinner. He put food in his mouth, chewed and swallowed, and nodded his agreement when Nicholas asked Pipp to pass his compliments on to Mrs. Waddell. But once it was over, he couldn’t even have said what he’d eaten. Instead, he spent the whole meal dwelling on what was to come after, his stomach knotted with nerves and excitement.
“We’ll take our port in the study,” Ward told Pipp as he cleared their dishes away.
Pipp was expressionless. “Very good, sir.”
Ward’s nerves had grown more and more jittery throughout the meal. By the time he and Nicholas were climbing the stairs together, he felt positively tongue-tied. Nicholas was equally silent, a serious expression making him look somewhat grim.
Was he having second thoughts?
Ward opened the study door and gestured for Nicholas and Snowflake to precede him into the room. Nicholas didn’t even glance at Ward as he entered, but despite that, despite the fact that his sleeve did not even so much as brush Ward’s as he passed him, Ward could feel him, as though Nicholas’s life force pulled at Ward like a magnet. Or perhaps his presence influenced Ward’s world in some unmistakable way, like the weather. Like when the air grew thick and heavy with the promise of an impending storm.
“Pipp’ll be up with the port in a minute,” Ward told Nicholas. “Then we’ll get some peace.”
Yes, they’d be alone at last, after the torture of sitting through too long a dinner, too many plates being put down and taken away again, when all Ward had wanted to do was push everything off the table and crawl over the polished wood to get to the man sitting on the other side.
Nicholas gave a strained smile and went to examine Ward’s bookshelves. He looked like Ward felt—nervous with expectation and impatience, unable to settle to anything but the long-delayed promise of what was to come. He stared fixedly at the spines of the books, but Ward would have wagered he did not see any of the words.
When at last Pipp came, Ward watched with sorely tried patience as his servant unhurriedly unloaded the contents of his tray.
“Will that be all, sir?” Pipp asked at last.
“Yes,” Ward said, suddenly unable to look his servant in the eye. “You may take yourself off for the night now, Pipp. I can see Mr. Hearn out when he’s ready to go.”
Pipp replied, “If I may be so bold, sir, it’s rather late. If it’s more convenient, I could have one of the guest rooms made up for—”
“That won’t be necessary, Mr. Pipp.” That was Nicholas, turning away from the bookshelf to quickly interrupt. “I’ll only be here another hour or so.”
Another hour or so?
Ward felt a stab of disappointment. That wasn’t much tim
e at all.
“Of course, sir,” Pipp murmured, inclining his head at Nicholas. He tucked his tray under his arm and left.
And finally, they were alone.
Nicholas moved slowly towards Ward, a tentative smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as Ward stepped forward to meet him, heart thudding with anticipation, only to halt when the click of nails on the wooden floor made them both glance downwards. No, they weren’t alone quite yet—Master Snowflake was still with them. The dog gazed worshipfully up at Nicholas, big head canted to one side.
Nicholas sent Ward an apologetic look. “I need to settle him down somewhere first. Where can I put him?”
“How about in here? Will he be all right if he knows you’re just next door?”
Nicholas thought about that. “I think he’ll be fine if I make him a little bed up, like the one he has at home. Would that be all right?”
“Of course. What do you need?”
“Do you have an old blanket, or maybe some rags?”
“I’m sure I can find something along those lines. Follow me.” He went to the door that connected the study to the bedchamber, beckoning Nicholas to follow him. “This is where I sleep,” he said, glancing over his shoulder at Nicholas, whose eyes were wide as he took in the opulence of the large bed dominating the room.
“You could sleep ten in that bed,” Nicholas joked weakly, seeming unable to take his eyes off it.
Ward chuckled and opened up the linen chest at the foot of the bed, pulling out a soft woollen blanket of palest blue, trimmed with ivory satin. He handed it to Nicholas. “Will this do?”
Nicholas stared at it, seeming appalled. “I can’t let a dog sleep on this.”
Ward waved that off. “It’s fine. I never use it—I’m always too hot in bed. Besides, it can be laundered if he makes a mess on it.”
“But it’s—”
“Nicholas, please,” Ward interrupted, his already harsh voice even rougher than usual. “Let’s not waste any more time.”
Nicholas stared at him, his expression taken aback. Then his lips twitched and he nodded. “All right. Just give me a minute.”
A Gathering Storm (Porthkennack Book 2) Page 13
