Page 39 of The Last Kiss

He pushed the thought aside, unable to bear it. Instead he said, “Regarding my trip on Tuesday, Olive received a message from Major Edwards saying that my new — uh — new leg will be ready for fitting on Wednesday.” His mother made a pained expression and his father puffed out a breath, moustache fluttering. Neither liked to hear about his injury. “If I extend my visit by a night, I can save myself another trip.” He shot his mother a look. “Olive’s offered me the use of the Allen’s town house.” He knew exactly what they’d both think ofthatshow of intimacy.

“Indeed!” His mother smiled. “Well, how very kind of her.”

“Yes,” Ash said, fixing his gaze on his lamb chop. “I took the liberty of accepting.” A pause while he steadied himself. “It has the advantage that there’ll be somewhere for West to stay.”

“West?”

“I’d like to bring him with me. You know we were comrades, and I’d rather not stay alone just in case…” He made a vague gesture toward his leg. “Besides, West has a sister in town he’d like to visit.”

His father grunted. “I’m not paying him to be your valet, Ashleigh.”

“Oh, my dear, don’t be such a misery,” his mother protested. “Of course Ashleigh must have a man with him. Lord knows, the Allens won’t have any staff in town. Nobody does these days.”

“That’s true,” Ash said, then smiled and added. “West can rustle me up some breakfast. He worked miracles with a can of Maconochie. I’d like to see what he can do with an egg or two.”

And so, reluctantly, his father agreed the plan. Ash had to work hard to keep from grinning.

He retired shortly after dinner, blaming the afternoon’s ride for having tired him out. But unlike every other evening, Ash wasn’t dreading the night to come. If he couldn’t sleep, then so be it — he’d use the time to remember this afternoon, to trace in his mind every sensation. From their first soft kiss to the feel of Harry’s hand on his prick, their fingers tangling together and that incandescent moment of ecstasy. And then afterward, being held so tenderly in Harry’s arms…

He stripped down to his shirtsleeves, un-strapped his leg with a sigh of relief, and lay on the bed. The curtains stood open to the night breeze — he couldn’t bear the dark — and he watched moonlight pattern the ceiling as clouds flitted across the sky. Outside, the rustle of the leaves and the bark of a distant fox were the only sounds. He fell asleep smiling at the memory of Harry’s touch.

Much later, the crunch of footsteps on gravel woke him. He started upright in bed, heart pounding. As always, it took a moment to orientate himself, to feel the linen sheets beneath his hands, to catch the scent of the garden in the air. Home. He was home. He turned his head to the window and realised it was already close to dawn. For once he had slept, undisturbed, all night.

His heartbeat slowed and he became aware of a thin, shadowy figure passing close to his window — John Pierson, heading back from the outhouse. Mindful of what Harry had told him about the tales the boy told, Ash kept still so as not to draw attention and watched as John made his way to the servants’ quarters behind the kitchen. When he’d gone, Ash swung his legs off the bed and used the windowsill to brace himself as he hopped to the chair by the window. He’d become rather good at that over the months he’d been home. He reached for his cigarettes as he sat down and noticed he was still wearing yesterday’s clothes. Not that he cared. Some distant part of his mind raised an eyebrow at his lax standards, but the rest of him simply shrugged. He’d lived like a beggar for weeks at time at the front, why should he give a fig for pyjamas now?

He lit up, sucked in a long breath, and blew smoke out through the window, watching the tip of his gasper glow. The horizon was starting to brighten and he smiled at the thought of what tomorrow night might bring. He wanted more than they’d done yesterday, although he hardly knew what. He wasn’t experienced, knew only the insistent tension in his body. Remembering Harry’s hand made him stiffen; imagining Harry’s mouth had him biting his lip to stifle a moan. Could they do such things? Would Harry want to? Would he want to domore?

He took another drag on his cigarette, blood racing.

And then he saw him, emerging from the pre-dawn shadows at the side of the house. Harry walked across the gardens, long legs striding too fast for Ash to catch up even if he’d had his damned leg on. It was too early to shout, so Ash could only watch as Harry made his way across the lawn to the garden wall and though the arch into the wilderness beyond.

Ash sat for a few moments longer, wondering what Harry was up to out there, but it was no good. He couldn’t bear this enforced inactivity. Making his way back to the bed, he strapped on his leg, found his other shoe and stood up, glancing at the door. He didn’t like the idea of running into one of the maids and, besides, he was feeling reckless. So he pulled the chair back from the window, opened it wide and sat on the ledge to swing his legs over one at a time. He slipped down, landing on his good foot with a wild sense of triumph and reached back in to fetch his cane. Heart pounding with glee, he headed after Harry as fast as he was able to walk.

Dawn was breaking fast now, a clear cloudless morning, and the roses around the arch glowed in the cool light. He paused at the threshold, taking a breath of the earthy woodland air, then stepped through into the wilderness. Above him, the leaves whispered in the soft breeze, the dawn chorus in full voice, and Ash smiled. No, hegrinnedwith pure delight.

“Ash?” Harry wasn’t far away, leaning on the wall some distance from the arch. It looked like he’d been enjoying a smoke but was regarding Ash with astonishment now.

“I saw you,” Ash explained, keeping his voice low as he walked toward him. His duff foot snagged on something and he stumbled, but Harry caught his elbow before he could fall.

“You daft sod,” he said, smiling. “Did anyone see you?”

“No, I climbed out of the window.”

Harry laughed softly. “Did you now?”

“I wanted to — ” Now he was here, with Harry’s hand on his elbow, he felt shy. “I wanted to see you.”

“I wanted to see you, too.” Harry’s grip tightened. “Ah, Ash,” he said, and pulled him close, wrapping his arms around him.

Ash breathed out. Just...breathed out, felt his body relax as he sank into Harry’s embrace. This, he thought, was all he needed. All he wanted. Harry lifted a hand to Ash’s hair, threading his fingers through it, and when Ash turned his head, Harry’s lips found his cheek, the corner of his mouth. And then they were kissing, slow and smoky, and the upside-down world felt right again.

“You’re cold,” Harry said after a while, chafing his hand up and down Ash’s arm. “Where’s your coat?”

“Doesn’t matter.” Ash pressed closer, their whole bodies touching from chest to toe. “I could stay here forever.”

A low laugh. “Boyd would have something to say about that.”

“I suppose he would.” Ash rested his head on Harry’s shoulder. “And I suppose we can’t ride again today.”

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