The Bridge of Silver Wings

by John Wiltshire

  It was only as they were showering, Ben being his usual annoying self and finding strange places to push suds, and then inventive ways to get them out again, that Nikolas thought to ask about the phone call. Ben wasn’t in the mood to be serious, so he had to persist before he got a rational answer. “I’ve been invited to a party tonight.”

  “By whom? Where? I could even ask why, as you’re so incredibly annoying! Stop it!”

  “By my aunt. There, I knew you’d look like that.”

  “I’m not looking like anything.” He stepped out of the shower and began to rub his hair dry. “Your new family is inviting you to a party tonight?”

  “Yes.” Ben wrapped a towel around his waist.

  “And you’re going, of course.”

  “They invited you as well.”

  “Me?”

  “I told them it was a working weekend for me, that my employer was down here with me, so they said bring you along.”

  “How delightful. Did they include the dog also in that charming invitation?”

  “Stop being so dramatic; it’s not impressing me, and, yes, they did. It’s casual dress so that’s good.”

  Nikolas looked despairingly at him. “That means suits and ties.”

  § § §

  Ben never questioned Nikolas’s seemingly innate knowledge of arcane crap like what to wear for any occasion. He couldn’t wrap his head around the concept of casual meaning suits. What if you wanted someone to come to a party wearing jeans and a T-shirt? What would you tell them? “Casual casual? No, seriously, casual. Not casual.” It didn’t make any kind of sense.

  He took Nikolas’s advice, however, and was glad he had when they arrived at a very large and prosperous-looking farmhouse and was met at the door by a woman who could’ve been anything from Nikolas’s age to eighty. She exuded rigid discipline and clearly managed to bring her aging under the same control she applied to the rest of her outward appearance. She was immaculate, and Ben was never so glad that they were wearing Hugo Boss. Her eyes travelled up them both, gave Nikolas a searing, brief examination then moved over to Ben. She breathed in and out audibly for a moment, her hand around her throat, and then she took it away and held it out. “Benjamin. At last. Won’t you come in?” She stood to one side, and as they entered, a young woman, in a neat black dress with an apron, held out her hands for their coats.

  The older woman was staring at them openly now in the brightly illuminated, vast hall. She gave a cool smile of welcome and held out her hand once more. “You must be Sir Nikolas. I know Lady Philipa from the hunt, of course.” Nikolas nodded his head and took her hand. “It’s a small world, isn’t it? Fancy Benjamin being found at last and then working for people we know. We could hardly believe it. But forgive me, darling. Do you remember me? I’m Aunt Camilla. You used to call me Aunty Cam.”

  Ben shook his head, awed and confused. A tray of drinks came past so he grabbed one. Camilla took his arm. “Well, come on in and meet your family at last, Benjamin. We’re very glad to have you back, now all that silly nonsense with the house is settled. Sir Nikolas, do have a drink.”

  “No, thank you.”

  “Perhaps you’d like Donna to put the dog in the kitchen?”

  Nikolas clicked his fingers, and Radulf came to his side immediately. “No, he stays with me, if you don’t mind.”

  “Of course. Does Philipa still have her pack? She does love her dogs.”

  “I wouldn’t know. We’re divorced.”

  “Of course. Forgive me. I had heard. Amicable, though.”

  “Very.”

  § § §

  Now that he didn’t drink, all parties had lost their appeal for Nikolas. But had he been forced to pick one to go to, his chosen one would have had far fewer well-dressed people talking with cut-glass vowels about the weather.

  Nikolas went over to his favourite place, back to the wall, to assess this new threat. It wasn’t quite as obvious yet as psychotic librarians or Siberian cannibals, but he felt it, nonetheless.

  Ben was led around meeting everyone. Nikolas had never seen him more beautiful. He really had nothing in common with the people gathered in the room: the local gentry and the well-to-do farmers. But then Nikolas had never seen Ben in a place where he did fit; he was too beautiful. He smiled privately; perhaps there was one place he suited perfectly. That thought, though, made him melancholy, and he wandered over to the floor to ceiling glass windows that looked out onto the garden.

  What did it say about him that this is what he thought about Ben—that the only place Ben belonged was inside him?

  The reality was Ben would thrive anywhere. That’s exactly what he’d been doing when Nikolas had first met him, but since that fateful moment he was the one who’d corralled Ben, indoctrinated him, controlled him, so he only ever had the opportunity to fit exactly where Nikolas wanted him to. He wondered whether if he clicked his fingers Ben would come obediently to his side as well, effectively blinded to all he had the potential to be.

  He heard exclamations of surprise and a few laughs and turned to see two Bens. He jerked his head back. No, one Ben and one look-alike. It was the only way he could describe it. Someone had paid a look-alike to attend the party as a joke. He saw Camilla embrace the man warmly then he and Ben shook hands. Ben was staring at this new arrival as intensely as he was. Ben never really saw or understood his own beauty, so quite what he was making of this man, Nikolas couldn’t tell. He decided to find out. Ben sensed him at his side, as he always seemed to, and made the introductions. “This is John, sir, my cousin, apparently—obviously—and this is Sir Nikolas Mikkelsen, my…boss.”

  John Redvers was not as tall as Ben, which meant he had to look up slightly to meet Nikolas’s eyes. He gave him a cool appraisal then drawled, “My cousin is very lucky in his choice of employer, Mr Mikkelsen. Your vastly expensive legal team effectively ended my hopes to inherit Horse Tor Manor. Thank you.”

  Nikolas gave him an equally frank appraisal. “My mistake then, Mr Redvers. I’d assumed it was Benjamin’s clear and undisputable rights that see him here today. And do call me Sir Nikolas.” He didn’t put emphasis on the sir, but he knew everyone present heard it, nonetheless.

  Camilla intervened. “Not today, please. It’s all in the past. We have Benjamin back with us. John, don’t you remember playing with Benjamin right here in this room? You had that little red train set for Christmas you loved? Remember?”

  Nikolas wanted to laugh at Ben’s expression. He was actually peering around the room as if to see two little boys and a steam engine. John, however, commented flatly, “He broke a coupling off. It never worked the same after that.”

  “Well, he was only four, darling, and you were at least five. I’m sure he didn’t mean it.”

  Suddenly, Ben’s eyes went wide. He glanced over to the fireplace, then back at John. “You broke my arm! You pushed me into the fireplace. I remember! I remember something.”

  Camilla put a hand on his arm. “No, darling, you tripped and fell. Don’t you remember? John wasn’t even here that day. Now, shall we all go in to dinner? Natasha is late as usual, but we shall just start without her. Come on, everyone, dinner is ready.” She led the way. Ben hung back, still staring at the fireplace where this grievous crime had taken place. He blurted fiercely to Nikolas, “He did push me!”

  “Benjamin…”

  “What?”

  “You are thirty-one years old.”

  Ben stared at him for a moment then laughed and ran his fingers through his hair disarmingly. “Why couldn’t I have remembered something good? God, this is so weird.” He pouted a little. “But he did push me.”

  Nikolas laughed and was about to kiss him but then remembered so he just put his fingers lightly on Ben’s arm to steer him toward the door. “Perhaps before this is all over you’ll have the chance to push him back.”

  They were crossing the hallway to the dining room when the front door burst open and a whirlwind came through, exclaiming
, throwing items of clothing, laughing and then coming skidding to a halt. Ben and Nikolas stared at the young woman. She was stunningly beautiful although quite why or how neither could have explained. It appeared as if she’d thrown on someone else’s clothes. Her hair hadn’t been brushed for a very long time. She was smoking. Her makeup was slightly old and smeared, but, regardless, she utterly possessed the space around her. She stopped in front of Ben and dropped her cigarette on the floor, carelessly grinding it into the tiles. Nikolas noted the floor had many such marks upon it already. “Fucking hell. You must be Benjamin.” She grinned, raised an eyebrow and then kissed him. “Hmm. Nice. Very nice. I’m Natasha. Camilla’s stepdaughter.” Then she held out her hand and gave him a mock courtesy. “How do you do?”

  She turned to Nikolas. “And, wow, you’re even more gorgeous than he is. Love the scars. Very ethnic chic, although, you’re more Viking chic. Do we have Viking chic? Meh, we do now. Do you model? You should. Anyway, I bet we’re late for dinner. Come on. I’m dying for a drink. Bloody four hours from London. Sodding M5 was backed up from Bath to fucking Bristol. Still, I’m here, so the party can begin. What’re you drinking?” She wandered off, lighting another cigarette, heading toward the back of the house, presumably to find herself a drink.

  They joined the others gathered in the dining room and discovered they’d been put at opposite ends of the table. To his complete dismay, Nikolas discovered the woman he was sitting next to had been a fairly frequent visitor at Barton Combe for Philipa’s country weekends. She remembered him, of course. He couldn’t repay the favour. He’d spent most of those weekends keeping himself busy elsewhere. Once Ben had come on the scene, busy inside Ben, so most of the well-to-do country folk who’d passed through his doors had made no impression at all. It was all too incestuous for his liking. That he was peeved because Ben appeared to be moving into circles he was now excluded from he refused to admit. It just wasn’t true.

  Ben had been seated next to an empty chair, which was soon occupied by Natasha. She’d found herself something to drink and had brought a glass of whatever it was for Ben. Nikolas noticed he was drinking it very quickly. He reckoned sitting next to Natasha would have that effect on any man. He couldn’t deny they made a stunningly beautiful couple. Ben had the same effortless beauty she did. It didn’t matter if he was emerging from the mud of a tsunami or from a turquoise lagoon, his bone structure and smile and wide green eyes were mesmeric.

  He glanced at John Redvers, who was sitting at the head of the table next to his mother and finally saw the difference between him and Ben. He hadn’t seen it at first, awed by the similarity. But he’d sensed it when he’d thought look-alike. John Redvers resembled a man who’d once seen a picture of a beautiful, young man and had decided he too would look like that. He’d styled his hair, applied products, perhaps even had work done until he could pass for the one who had inspired him. And he possibly could. Unless they were in the same room, of course, and then there was no real resemblance at all, except in the superficial. Nikolas had seen Ben vomiting, worse (a lot worse now he came to think about it), and he’d still remained beautiful. Nikolas smiled privately at his own inanity and tried to focus on the conversation around him.

  Natasha was topping up Ben’s drink again and they had wine as well. Nikolas sighed. Ben was fun when he was drunk, but they couldn’t afford for him to be too much fun tonight and forget. He was just Ben’s employer, as far as these people were concerned, a fiction that was nicely supported by the one or two people who remembered them both from Barton Combe— that nice young man in the department of something or other who worked for Sir Nikolas.

  Finally the meal was done. They rose from their places. Nikolas now wanted to leave. He waited until Ben was crossing the hallway and touched his arm. “I’ll get a taxi back to the hotel with Radulf. Stay longer, if you want.”

  Ben frowned. “Why don’t you stay, too?” He was staring intently at Nikolas, his green eyes wide.

  “What?”

  Ben shook his head slightly. “I just want to kiss you, and I can’t. I hate this. Why can’t we just go in there and…I don’t know, do something to let them all know how it is?”

  Nikolas raised his eyebrows. “That conjures a few interesting images.”

  Ben smirked, glanced around the hallway and pushed Nikolas into the shadows under the stairs. “No, Ben. Stop it.” Nikolas extracted himself. “Stay, but don’t drink any more, perhaps?”

  “Jesus. I’m fine. Okay, I’ll see you back at the hotel. Don’t do anything without me, okay?”

  “Can I take a shower? Watch the news?”

  “No to the first but yes to the second.”

  Nikolas eased him out of the way and went to ask in the kitchen for the number for a taxi.

  § § §

  Ben re-entered the main room. Natasha immediately hung on his arm and pushed another drink into his hand. “Hello, darling, where’ve you been?”

  Ben took the drink. It was good stuff. They wandered around the room and she introduced him to people he’d not already met. She seemed to know everyone and they all clearly knew Natasha. Every man had his eye on her but she seemed disdainful and cool to everyone but Ben. It only seemed to add to her allure, building sexual tension in the air. Eventually, she got bored with being so fabulous and dragged him outside onto the patio. She produced some cigarettes and offered him one, eyeing him up when he refused. “I saw you in that docu-thingy about the big wave, by the way. You were brilliant.”

  Ben quirked his lips. “Thanks. What do you do?”

  “Guess.”

  “Model?”

  “Nooooo. So wrong. Guess again.”

  “Investment banker?”

  She laughed. “Closer.”

  He frowned. “Seriously?”

  She winked. “People invest in me, and I bank it.”

  “Okaaay.”

  “So, your boss, the gorgeous blond one…Is he married?”

  “He was. Divorced last year.”

  “Uh-huh. Girlfriend?”

  “Not currently.”

  “You?”

  “Me! I’m not his…What do you…?”

  “I can’t see all those TV girls leaving you alone for one minute.”

  “Oh. No, I mean, yes. You?”

  “I like to keep my options open. For investment purposes, you understand. Are you cold? It’s bloody freezing out here.” He politely offered her his jacket and was a little annoyed when she accepted. It was cold. She looked good in it though; he couldn’t deny that. She clearly knew she did, too. She pulled it around her shoulders, smelling it and rubbing her cheek into the warm fabric. “I love Hugo Boss.”

  “Does he know?”

  “You’re funny.” She slid alongside him on the low wall, blowing smoke into his face for a while. He used to get this from Nikolas and almost missed it. She stretched over and placed her lips on his. They were warm and very soft. The smoke eased into his mouth. It reminded him of kissing Nikolas in the old days. Thinking about Nikolas sent a surge of desire straight to his groin. She slid her hand into his lap and murmured, “Bad boy.”

  “Hey, you two, we’re having a toast. Ash, let Benjamin go.” She pulled away at her stepbrother’s words, but cast Ben a seductive glance. “Nice kissing.” She danced away on John’s arm.

  Ben touched a finger to his lips. Had he kissed her? He hadn’t thought he had, but maybe the cigarette taste and the alcohol and her warm lips had seduced him a little. He hadn’t pulled away, that was for sure. Damn it, he’d closed his eyes and thought about Nikolas, comparing her bland smoothness to him—the smell of his neck just under his ear, the feel of his stubble, the awareness of his power.

  He felt inordinately guilty. She’d thought his erection was for her. He should have pulled away immediately and told her, but how could he, given Nikolas’s bloody strictures on what he could and couldn’t say? Damn him! It was all Nik’s fault that he’d had someone else’s lips on his for the firs
t time in two years. Other than Tim, of course. And Squeezy once or twice, but Nikolas knew about that and had found it annoyingly funny. But then Squeezy had kissed Nikolas, too. Squeezy had a tendency to kiss everyone these days. Fuck, but he just wanted to go home. The more he saw of this life the more he realised he just wanted what he’d always wanted: Nikolas bloody Mikkelsen. So, why wasn’t the bastard here where he was wanted and needed?

  He wandered down into the cold garden for a while until, jacketless, he began to shiver. When he returned to the warm sitting room, Camilla was making a little speech. She waved Ben over and took his arm. “So, here he is. My dear brother’s long lost son. She tried to take him from us, but somehow fate has a strange way of working itself out, doesn’t it? To Benjamin Redvers. May Redvers forever remain at Horse Tor Manor, 1068 to the future beyond reckoning.” She lifted her glass and drank. Ben did the same. Everyone clapped and came over to slap him on the back and congratulate him. Even John gave him a manly sort of punch to the arm and then a slap on the back. Ben’s head was reeling. The cold and then the intense heat. The alcohol. He was feeling lightheaded. Camilla took his arm. “So, darling, John tells me you and Natasha have hit it off already.”

  “No, we were just…I mean, she’s very…”

  “I’ll tell you a little secret, Benjamin. Nothing would make me happier.”

  “What! I’m sorry, but you’ve got the wrong…”

  “I can still see you and my brother at the house. He’d bought you a little tricycle for your third birthday. Do you remember? It was red and blue, and he’d put playing cards in the spokes, and they made a sound like gunfire as you dashed around the floor. It was paradise for a little boy growing up in that lovely house. Do you remember your little bike? Do you remember John? He adored you, of course. He was already past middle age when you were born. He never thought he’d find anyone, you see. And then she came along. So pretty. But you know that. You remember her, of course. I heard from Sir Nikolas that she died. I’m very sorry, Benjamin, but I can’t say I’m sad to hear that. You know the police searched for her for months. The file might still be open for all I know.”