Page 30 of The Last Kiss

He got up and left shortly after the conversation ended, his earlier buoyant mood sunk somewhat by his father’s words. Sunk but not entirely submerged. He stopped by the kitchen where Mrs Pierson had made up a picnic lunch for him and Harry, which she handed over with a curt nod. Young John was skulking in the outside doorway and Ash remembered what Harry had said about the boy telling stories about his night-time disturbances. The thought made him flush and he looked away from John’s sullen gaze.

All in all, he was glad to escape the house. The morning’s promise of a fair day looked like it would be fulfilled and there was even a little warmth in the spring sunshine today. The sky was a clear blue, washed clean by yesterday’s rain, the air verdant. He let the weight of his father’s expectations slip off his shoulders as he walked toward the stables, pushing aside the reality of next Tuesday’s meeting when he saw Bella saddled and waiting with Boyd while Harry led Sable out into the yard. What did any of that matter now, when he had the whole day ahead with Harry?

Harry offered a guarded smile when he saw Ash, the spring sunshine picking out the gold in his hair. “Morning, Mr Ashleigh.”

“West,” he said, allowing the formality for Boyd’s sake. “We’ve a fine day for our ride.”

“Yes sir.”

“I hear you’re heading to Rowbarrow Pond,” Boyd said, walking Bella over.

“That’s right — at least, that’s the objective.”

“Well, I know you’re familiar with the area, Mr Ashleigh, so forgive me for saying it but make sure you stay on the bridleway today. It’ll be marshy out that way after yesterday’s rain.”

Ash reached out to stroke Bella’s nose. “Thank you for the reminder, but don’t worry, I won’t let anything happen to the horses. You have my word.”

“Thank you, sir. Shall I take your bag?”

With a nod, Ash handed it over and let Boyd stow it in Bella’s saddle bag. While he did so, Ash allowed his gaze to wander over to Harry and found Harry’s eyes already on him. They exchanged another smile, lingering just a moment too long for innocence. Ash’s pulse skipped and he saw a flush touch Harry’s tanned cheek as he turned away to check the buckles on Sable’s tack. Still smiling, Ash admired the way Harry’s coat tightened across his back when he moved, the competent way his broad hands worked on the saddle. Satisfied, Harry mounted with easy grace and Ash had to look away, partly to avoid staring and partly to smother a flash of envy. His own mount and dismount would be clumsy.

Clumsy, but adequate, and with Boyd holding the reins Ash swung up onto Bella’s back and even managed to manoeuvre his prosthetic foot into the stirrup without Boyd’s assistance. That was a small victory for which he was inordinately grateful. And then they were off, Ash leading the way out toward Rowbarrow Pond. They rode single-file along the road, then two abreast once they reached the broad bridleway that ran through the forest. It had been years since Ash had ridden this way, but even so it felt like every turn in the trail was familiar, the trees unchanged even though he had become an entirely different man.

They didn’t talk much, but the quiet between them was easy. It had always been easy. They did look at each other, however. Every time Ash glanced over, it seemed that he caught Harry’s eye or saw him just turning his head away. And there were several times when he felt Harry’s eyes on him, felt his skin heat beneath his gaze.

“Do you want to try a trot?” Harry suggested after a while. The bridleway ahead was firm and straight, the trees having fallen away to expose the rough heathland of the forest, gorse and heather and grasses on both sides of the path and not a soul in sight.

Ash shifted his weight, testing the angle on his prosthetic. It would probably hurt but what the hell? “Alright,” he said. “Let’s have a go.” He softened the reins and squeezed his legs, hoping he was getting the pressure correct on his left. After a moment Bella responded and Ash’s instinct took over as he rose to an awkward posting trot, the stiffness of the prosthetic not making it easy and the angle of his leg uncomfortable. Nevertheless, he was doing it and that was enough to make him smile. He flashed Harry a look and he grinned back, trotting along next to Ash.

“A canter might be easier,” Ash decided and sat down, tipping one hip forward as he squeezed his legs to ask for the canter. Bella tossed her head and then they were off, the balance easier now he was sitting and the weight was off his leg. Harry kept pace, the wind blowing the hair back from of his face and adding an interesting flush to his cheeks. Ash’s racing heart pounded in time with Bella’s hooves, although whether from the exhilaration of the ride or from the sight of Harry at his side he wouldn’t have liked to say.

They cantered for a short time, then dropped back into a trot and then a walk. Ash was breathless from the unaccustomed exercise, blood singing and thighs burning, but he couldn’t stop grinning. It was the most alive he’d felt in a long time. “That was bloody good fun. Christ, I’ve missed this.”

Harry breathed hard too, face bright as he said, “You look good on a horse, Ash. You ride well.”

“Thank you.” The compliment made him blush and he looked away, smiling and uncertain. He wanted — He hardly knew how to think about what he wanted. He wanted Harry, his smile and company and the warmth between them, but there was also a deep, dark beat of desire fiercer than any of that. A desire he might never be brave or foolish enough to act on. “You, ah, you’ve got a good seat yourself.”

“Aye, so I’ve been told.” Harry grinned at him and Ash felt himself blush harder. Was that — ? Was that flirtation? Harry nodded toward a sparkle of sunlight ahead. “That’s our pond, is it?”

Tearing his gaze away, Ash squinted ahead and spotted the edge of the water. “Yes, that’s it. We should find a spot near there to stop and eat. Are you hungry?”

“Ravenous. Breakfast was a long time ago.”

Ash had hardly eaten in the end, and after all this unusual exercise he was feeling hungry too. “If I remember right, there’s rather a nice old tree we can stop at. You have to be careful around here, like Boyd said — there are mires and so forth.”

Harry cocked an eyebrow. “Like the one old Pierson drowned in?”

“You heard about that?”

“Aye, Boyd told me.”

Ash nodded. “Bad business, that.” But his mind’s eye saw Jimmy Tilney struggling in the waterlogged shell hole, begging them not to let him drown, and Ash lying to him, promising they’d get him out until Jimmy’s face went under, limbs thrashing, and —

“Ash.” Harry touched his arm, reaching over from Sable, his face clouded with concern. “Alright?”

He startled back to himself, the greens and blues of the world almost blinding. “Yes, I… Sorry.”

Harry didn’t let go of his wrist, his warm fingers strong and uncompromising, his expression knowing. But, thank God, he didn’t say anything other than, “Is that the tree you were talking about? The oak?”

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