Page 32 of Rogue Royal
“Tomorrow. Block out from dinner to when I need to be at the club.”
Mav raised his eyebrows but did as asked. “What do you want me to tag it as?”
Douglas frowned. “Frederick. He won’t mind being used as a screen.”
Mav typed the note and saved it. “All set.”
Douglas kissed him chastely. “Good. I want to take my time with you.”
They rested in silence before Mav deemed himself too uncomfortable to stay as he was, then he said goodbye, receiving a long, tantalising kiss before he exited. Mav kept his head down, holding the tablet in front of him to hide the remains of his now cold release. Every step had him grimacing.
“Good morning, Maverick. How are things going with my son?”
Mav bowed his head to the king, his heart pounding at the implications of his words, which he immediately quashed with reason. “Your Majesty, things are going well. Prince Douglas is becoming more involved in charities to show his compassionate and fore-thinking self. We have arranged for some new charities to be included on his schedule that he may be more inclined to attend. He will have more information for you this evening.”
“Glad to hear it. You have been a boon to the team, Maverick. Thank you for your tireless work ethic. I will ensure your boss hears about it.”
Maverick felt the heat invade his cheeks at the thought of what work he’d finished doing with Douglas that morning. “Thank you, Your Majesty. I’m glad you’re happy with my work.”
King Andrew squeezed his shoulder and moved on, his entourage following, and Mav watched them leave, slumping against the wall. Of all the people he hadn’t wanted to see while his come was still staining his trousers, the king was the first. He was sure he would lose his job if his and Douglas’s relationship was to be exposed.
Sighing, he rushed through the remaining corridors to his room, thankful when he locked his door behind him. Placing the tablet on the table, he aimed for his bathroom. The shower was calling, plus a new set of clothes.
He couldn’t find it in himself to care about the repercussions of their illicit lessons when he remembered how Douglas had felt surrounding him, teasing him, caring for him.
He wanted more.
****
With the rest of the day clear unless anything went wrong at Douglas’s appointments—and they would contact him should anything happen—Mav drove across the city to his father’s house.
Ronald Houghton was sixty years old and a part-time accountant for Calverdere Associates—Bert’s brother, Jeffrey’s business. He had been working with Jeffrey for over twenty years and had grown up with them both. Unfortunately for Maverick, it meant Bert had him between a rock and a hard place when it came to making sure Mav did as he was told. His father was two years away from retirement, and Mav wouldn’t do anything to stop it from happening if he could help it.
As he parked in his father’s driveway, he shook his head at the picture of his dad halfway up a ladder, cleaning the gutters of the house. Mav had told him repeatedly not to do it when there was no one there with him because if he fell, he’d be in trouble, but did his father listen? No.
“Dad, what have I told you?” Mav strode to the ladder, holding the base steady while his father worked.
“Ah, I’m good. It’s a few leaves and moss. Anyway, the neighbour’s kid usually does it, but they’re away on holiday this week, and with the forecasted rain, I didn’t want to take the chance.”
Ron climbed down, carrying the bucket full of rubbish, and Mav stepped back when he reached the bottom. “You should’ve called me.”
His dad chuckled, the weathered lines on his face deepening with his mirth, though his eyes lightened. “You’ve got enough to do without dropping everything to help me plod around the house, Maverick. Come on, the kettle’s not long been on.”
Following his father into his childhood home immediately took Mav back to simpler times when Mav didn’t have as many worries on his shoulders. The photographs on the walls were an album of his life, hung with methodical precision for every milestone he reached.
“Tea? Although you probably drink some fancy coffee at the castle, don’t you?” His dad cackled.
Mav rolled his eyes, following the voice to the kitchen. “They do have fancy coffee, but they drink as much tea as we do.” He sat at the worn dining table, fingering the gaps in the wood as he listened to his father pottering around the room. If he closed his eyes, he could imagine it being twenty years ago. Nothing much had changed, and he loved it.
“Here you go.” Ron settled a mug of steaming tea in front of him, then slid into a seat beside him, his arms trembling. The white in his hair and beard made Ron appear older than his sixty years. “What’s bothering you?”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s not that I dislike your visits, Maverick, but when you turn up unannounced, it’s usually because something’s wrong.” His father tilted his head, narrowing his eyes.
Mav frowned. “Do I?” At his dad’s nod, he sighed. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry, son. I don’t mind you visiting at all, but I can try to help if something’s troubling you.”
