“You adore it, so quit your teasing and fuck me, Ginger.” The heavy thigh landed on his shoulder, changing the angle of the drive.
“I’m not going to last long, as a warning,” said Ainsley after the first ten strokes or maybe after one hundred.
Cockburn took himself in hand and moved as fast as Ainsley’s rutting hips. “I can’t decide if I want you to take forever or get on with it.” The bloody man grinned with his back teeth like a shark.
He bit down on his bottom lip much too hard and said between pants, “Forever’s off the table, I’m afraid.”
Ainsley’s neck was held down and his mouth ravaged in the very best way. And then he was released with a smack on his chest. “Holy fucking hell, Dr. Graham. I love you.” Joachim’s head thrashed as he came and cried out.
A euphoric haze settled around Ainsley as he spilled inside his magnificent beast of a man. “Christ, I love you, too.” His eyes squeezed shut while he rode out the last of the shudders.
Bugger. That’s exactly what this was. The rush of affection and warmth and utter belonging he didn’t know if he’d ever had before. He dropped his head to Joachim’s broad chest, the heavy gallop matching his own heart. Ran his fingers through the hair so he could focus. Did his best to summon the nerve to say it again. Not induced by passion this time, but from the rightness of it.
Those were words he didn’t say, and he was terrified to look up at Cockburn, but he had to risk it. He could say it again. And hear it again, and they’d damn well figure out a way to be together because if it was what both of them wished for, surely...
The blue-green eyes couldn’t meet his. “I didn’t mean to say that.”
Fuuuuuck.
Ainsley scrambled out of the heavy embrace. Took a breath to get rid of the crystal ice expanding in his lungs. “Christ, me neither.” He forced his lips into a smile. “Heat of the moment.”
Joachim looked at him and nodded once. “Yes.” His voice was nearly as faint as Ainsley’s.
“Because, like you’ve said, I’m never going to see you again after tomorrow. So that would be sheer lunacy.”
Please fucking deny it.
But Joachim didn’t. Cleared his throat twice. “Exactly. And I determined days ago you’re as sane as me.”
Instead of the usual sappy emotional display Joachim indulged in, this time he was on his feet and rummaging around the room for his clothes. Ainsley’s, too. Tossed them over as he pulled on his trousers.
“I’ll be missing you Tuesday night, that’s for sure.” Joachim turned away, whistling, and buttoned up his shirt. Left him hollow like the gray light at the moment before dawn. A bit fragile. Sort of sinking into that pitch-black water and scrambling to get out of it.
Ainsley swallowed and plastered a small smile on his face.
And put on enough clothes to make it to his own room without giving anyone who might be lingering in the hall the notion that he had ever hated the idea of a Tuesday’s arrival so much in his damned life.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Joachim
He was the world’s biggest fool. And a bloody-minded coward to boot.
He drove the luxurious motorcar over the Firth of Forth and wished to hell he was in the passenger seat so he could stop concentrating for ten minutes and do his damnedest to jolly up his lovely young man, who lost his tongue since they’d shared their ill-fated declarations...and fucking retractions...the night before.
The words had tumbled out of his mouth unbidden, but he meant them, even when he wasn’t experiencing a mind-shattering orgasm.
The question was, had Ainsley meant them, too?
Joachim squeezed one of the legs decidedly turned away from him. “Dr. Graham, I believe I’ve gotten the hang of this enough to sing. Start me off on a tune, won’t you?”
Graham jumped and caught his breath. “A song?” He continued to look out the window, his voice faint. “I can’t think...”
Bloody hell. He’d done this. And now he’d leave, and he’d kick himself as a coward for a long time. A very long time.
Pulling Ainsley’s hand from where it knotted in his lap, Joachim pressed his long fingers to his lips. “I don’t wish to leave tomorrow.” Why had that been so difficult to admit?
“You don’t?” Aha, that caught his ginger’s attention.
He wagged his head. “I do not. I’ve no longing for my work, or my studies. I don’t miss my sister—even though I do like her very much, don’t get me wrong. I don’t miss my friends. Or even my own bed.”
The younger man turned in his seat to look at Joachim full on, those heavy-lashed eyes focused with an intensity that was unusual. “Why not?”
Lord, it was nearly like a glare. Was it a glare?
“Er...because I’ve so enjoyed my time here with you.” Dammit, he tried to capture the nerve to just blurt it out, and failed. It was the fear of garnering Ainsley’s disgust. An unbearable, churning fear that was like the world’s worst heartburn.
Instead, there was a blank stare that was as unreadable as an overcast sky.
“I told you that you ought to come back and you said you wouldn’t. So I’m afraid it’s hard to believe you’ve had such a good time, after all.” And good God damn if Graham wasn’t the dictionary definition of sneery.
Yet, he didn’t pull his hand away from Joachim’s, which was much more of a tell than the tone of his voice.
Keeping his eyes on the road, he sang loud enough for Violet to lift her head from the back seat. “He’s got auburn hair. I never cared for auburn hair, but, he’s got auburn hair. So that’s my weakness now.”
Ainsley was unable to keep his lips clenched and a smug smile danced on the edges. “Gads, man, everyone adores auburn hair. You’ll have to do better, I’m afraid.”
In his most little-girlish New York accent, Joachim continued. “He likes to talk to ghosts. I never liked to talk to ghosts, but, he likes to talk to ghosts. So that’s my weakness now.”
A movement in the back seat made the hair on the back of Joachim’s neck rise, and he caught Maisie’s wink in the mirror before she disappeared again.
“Will you give me a smile, or shall I humiliate myself further, Ginger?” He poked Ainsley’s green-and-blue-tartaned thigh.
“Humiliation is enjoyable when it’s not one’s own.” Ainsley gestured to a side road. “But we’re almost there.”
They drove down a gravel road flanked with arches of trees so thick it was as if they’d entered a primeval forest. “Park and we’ll walk the rest of the way.”
Joachim did as he was told, a rush of pride when he was able to manage it without much more commotion than Ainsley would have. He’d have to think seriously about investing in a motorcar. The pleasure of driving was more than he’d anticipated.
Bloody hell, the pleasure of his entire hunt in Scotland was beyond his wildest fantasies.
“Ainsley, I feel... I should say...”
But his ginger had already gotten out of the car and slammed the door.
Bollocks.
Nothing to do but follow and find himself the perfect opportunity to admit that he couldn’t bear the notion of never enjoying an hour in Graham’s company again.
The rain of the past few days left puddles of mud sprinkled around the edges of the winding drive and Joachim got a glimpse of the demon Ainsley must have been as a child because both young man and dog sloshed through each patch of wet as though they scouted for them.
“And where might we be?” Joachim broke the companionable quiet after a few minutes.
“Fantuinn. There was an old fort from back when your people thought they could overthrow mine.”
He let the historical commentary pass, his swirling thoughts too full of the last evening’s lovemaking...er...sex with Ainsley to engage in a battle of wits.
Daffod
ils sprang up in small clumps that spotted the floor of the forest and birds chirped overhead. Even the overcast daylight couldn’t douse the sense of new spring life in the air.
“I’ve come to a conclusion.” Ainsley’s voice was soft. It made Joachim’s heart thud. Please tell me you feel the same as me.
“After our chat in Culross, I’ve had a lot of time to think about my future. Which road I wish to travel.” Beautiful gray eyes cast a sheepish look at Joachim.
He reached out a hand and stroked the younger man’s arm through nubby tweed. “And which path shall it be, Dr. Graham?”
“I’ve decided that I will write about the ghosts. Because I’ve already lost my career, but they can’t take away my degrees for giving as much proof as I can about the things I’ve seen. And you did that for me.”
Ainsley faced Joachim and their mingled breath warmed his cheeks.
“I... I did that for you? How?” Had Ainsley heard his voice hitch?
The Scotsman tilted his mouth so it bussed Joachim’s. But only for the briefest moment.
“Because you saw them, too. I know for sure now that I’m not mad. Not if you can see my mother. And Lizzie. And... Charlie.” Ainsley squeezed his upper arms with affection.
All his focus turned to a funnel of darkness as the implication of what Graham said crept into his mind. He blinked rapidly until he could see again.
“If it was just Trixie and me...it would be easy enough to believe that we were both cursed with some inherited lunacy. But you’re so very real, Joachim. So practical. So solidly stable and good.” His ginger fluttered his lashes and—amazingly—blushed.
This was the time to tell Ainsley that he did, in fact, love him. That he wished to see how they could work out a way to remain in each other’s lives. Because Joachim’s belly curdled at the idea that this lovely, brilliant butterfly might not be in his life.
He opened his mouth to say so, but nothing came out.
What if Ainsley laughed? Or showed that disgust he was wont to show?
How could Joachim bear it?
“Tell me about your dissertation.” Ainsley interrupted his thoughts.
Good heavens, a week ago, Joachim would have been able to ramble about his work for an hour without pause, but now? He’d pushed all of his concerns back into the steel trap hidden in his mind, but now they all tumbled back out.
He cleared his throat, as if it might give him time to think. But Ainsley gave him a look full of expectancy and he had no chance to pretend he had any other ideas.
“Yes, well, I’ve spent the past three years working at the asylum with the non-dangerous patients. The ones who seem to be utterly sane, but who...er...well, they tend to have some idea that isn’t logical or provable.” His mouth was as dry as if he’d licked the inside of a chimney.
Graham stepped back, his spine tightening. “And they’re locked up for it, even though, as you say, they aren’t dangerous?” His nostrils flared.
“It’s their relations, you see. They might prove a danger to...” Bloody hell, it was a vile practice now that he stopped to consider it.
“The reputation of their families?” offered the Scotsman, eyes snapping and cheeks reddening with fury.
Joachim’s gaze dropped, unable to take the disgust on his companion’s face. “I don’t have anything to do with the policies of putting a family member inside the damned place.” He pushed his hair back though it hadn’t moved under his cap. “My role is to figure what leads these poor blighters to make these sorts of claims, and then help them understand that they are wrong.” He winced. Fuck. None of this sounded as helpful as it actually was. “So they can go home and live normal lives.”
“And what sorts of frightening things do these raving loonies claim? Hmm? That they see ghosts? Creatures that live in hedges? Or are they honestly certifiable things like a man preferring to suck a cock than marry a fine young woman?”
Oh. The edge to Ainsley’s voice was dangerous and Joachim would give most anything to go back a few minutes and make up a lie.
“It’s not—” But he cut himself off because it was like that. At first he’d questioned his superiors at the hospital about some of the flimsy reasons people were locked inside. After being warned his questions would get him sacked, he’d stopped, terrified they’d start to inquire about his personal life.
Graham crossed his arms over his chest and tapped a foot. “And now that you’ve witnessed your own encounters, what is your plan? Can you possibly still write your paper about people like me as delusional cranks?”
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Joachim curled his shoulders forward. In a small voice, he replied, “I must.”
Ainsley’s gasp was loud enough to startle some birds that tore into the trees, thrashing through the boughs.
“But that doesn’t mean that I believe it, Ainsley. What would you have me do? I’ve done the research, I’ve gotten the paper outlined, and it’s what the doctoral committee expects of me. It isn’t reasonable for me to hope to get my letters by asserting that there are, in fact, ghosts and spirits and things that go bump in the night. If I did that, I’d...well... I’d be laughed out of academia.”
Ainsley snarled. “Don’t I know it?”
They stared at each other for a long moment, Joachim scrambling for a way to fix things. But Graham’s focus shifted to somewhere behind him, and the rise and fall of his chest increased in speed.
His voice was weak, bewildered. “Charlie?”
Joachim turned to see what Ainsley meant.
By a far copse of pine stood a young redheaded man in army jacket and kilt, cap rolled into a tube in his hand. He beckoned to Ainsley with the other, and before Joachim could think, Ainsley barreled past, Violet at his heels.
Chapter Thirty
Ainsley
Charlie. And Ainsley could see him, plain as day. He never saw Mama or Lizzie, or any of the others, but Charlie was there looking exactly the way he had when Ainsley refused to say good-bye before Charlie headed off to die in a soggy Flemish trench.
He sprinted over the underbrush of the forest, and Charlie laughed and took off running, too. Branches caught Ainsley’s face and he realized that the forest sloped down into an ivy-roped ravine. He slowed down and went sideways to keep from slipping.
“Come along, Ainsley, you’re too slow,” Charlie called for him, like he had their entire childhood when Ainsley fought to keep pace with his elder brother.
Cockburn had seen him. In Charlie’s room, which Ainsley had been too cowardly to ever enter. Not once. But now that Charlie appeared on his own volition, he couldn’t imagine what had frightened him. This was no monster wishing to cause him pain; it was his brother.
Ainsley left the real monster on the path by the car.
Fucking hell.
Joachim was going to make his career out of destroying what little bit of goodwill Ainsley might have had left in the academic community. He was going to bring him back up into the public’s memory when they finally had forgotten about his missteps and slash him to ribbons again by calling him delusional. How could he possibly try to make people believe in ghosts if he was written about as a madman?
And he’d thought he loved the bastard.
Bloody hell, he was the idiot Trixie always insisted he was.
Charlie darted through another patch of trees and Ainsley slid down in some mud and soaked his left flank. Fuuuuck. That would be miserable to get clean. Violet barked happily at his side until he stood again and regained his footing.
“Ainsley, come back,” shouted bloody Cockburn from somewhere behind him.
He yelled up to the sod poised at the top of the ravine. “Sod off. I never wish to see you again. Everything about you was a mistake.”
Brushing hot blurriness from his eyes, Ainsley tucked his head and continued to run, nearly catching
his brother. Charlie whipped out of sight, but apparently Violet saw where he went and Ainsley bounded after her, breaking through the trees into a clearing.
All of his bones felt as though they’d been squeezed to a breaking point. Charlie was nowhere to be seen, and the setter calmly lapped up water from an engorged creek.
“Charlie?”
Please come back. Please, please, please come back. I’m so lonely.
But there was nothing but the pitter-patter of raindrops over the canopy of leaves.
Chapter Thirty-One
Joachim
Heavy rain beat down on the windscreen, blocking out anything Joachim might have been able to see.
Would Ainsley return, or had he lost himself—body or mind equally dangerous—in the woods in his rage?
He’d asked himself the same sort of thing for most of the afternoon, and now that it was darkening into evening, there was a frantic edge to Joachim’s worry.
Would he compound the problem by heading out to look for Ainsley, or had he achieved the maximum bollocksing the situation could provide? Right. He lifted his collar and straightened his cap before opening the door and stepping into the deluge.
Go ahead and get wet. It’s hardly like to get any better.
He opened the boot of the car and retrieved one of the battery-operated torches they’d used in the close. Would Ainsley come back on his own accord? Scrambling some more, Joachim found a pencil nub and scrap of a paper bag and scrawled: I’ve gone to find you. He left it on the dash and headed out into the dark.
God, it was slick, and he picked his way to the edge of the ravine circumspectly. The side of the hillock was slimy with layers of fallen leaves and days of rain. He poked through with his walking stick.
What would he say to Ainsley if—when—he found him? Drop to his knees and beg forgiveness? Say he’d give up the notion of achieving his life’s ambition and, by the way, might Ainsley wish to interview him as a replacement cook for Mrs. Mackie? Because really, what options did Joachim have but to write the damned paper he’d intended to write?
Best Laid Plaids (Kilty Pleasures) Page 23
