Page 23 of It Takes Two to Tumble
With his hand still threaded in Sedgwick’s hair, Phillip leaned forward, let his lips brush against Sedgwick’s. Just that, nothing more. He felt a puff of air come from the other man’s mouth, the faintest sigh, and then Sedgwick’s body was against his own, and Phillip felt something terribly like relief.
As Dacre’s lips brushed across his own, a ripple of awareness spread down Ben’s body. He didn’t know how a mere whisper of a touch could send him spiraling into a world where he cared about nothing but the need to have this man in his arms. Instinctively, he touched Dacre’s cheek, feeling the rasp of stubble against his fingertips, and heard a groan come from the other man. Then Dacre’s arms were wrapped around him, his mouth heavy and hot on his own.
Their time in the boathouse had been about pleasure, satisfaction. In broad daylight and with no possibility of release, their kisses were slower and softer and infinitely more dangerous. Ben could have stayed like that forever, could let his life collapse into a shape the precise dimension of his body and Dacre’s pressed together. His world was Dacre’s jaw beneath his fingertips, Dacre’s steadying hand on his own waist. Everything else could slip away—St. Aelred’s, Alice, all of it. He’d happily wave goodbye to duty, to order, to everything he had ever wanted, because this was more, and better, and true.
The starkness of this realization made him pull away and stare at Dacre in dismay. He could not allow this to happen. He couldn’t plunge into disorder; he couldn’t let the chaos of his youth find him in the idyllic peace of his village, surmounting his duty to a dying parishioner.
Some of his horror must have shown on his face, because Dacre dropped his hands to his sides and stepped away.
“Forgive me,” the captain muttered, plainly misunderstanding the cause of Ben’s anguish. “I thought you... I didn’t—”
“No,” Ben said quickly, trying to explain that the kiss hadn’t been unwanted, but merely catastrophic. He reached a hand out to touch Dacre’s arm before realizing that additional contact was the last thing they needed. He hastily snatched his hand back and saw the hurt flash in Dacre’s eye. “No, dash it. That isn’t—”
They were interrupted by a cacophony of sounds. The dog was barking and Mrs. Farleigh was shouting and Jamie and Peg were racing down the lane.
Ben had never been so glad to see the Dacre children as he was at that moment. What he needed was time. Time to figure out how to make sense of this world he now found himself in, how to do what was right and good.
It took about three-quarters of an hour for Ben and the twins to unload the hamper into Mrs. Farleigh’s kitchen while Dacre spoke with Mr. Farleigh, and then another several minutes to collect the dog, who had gotten off his rope and was attempting to menace a pair of bored-looking chickens.
That ought to have been enough time for Ben to get his thoughts in order, to weed out any stray impulses and mad desires that didn’t belong in the life he wanted. But that was just the trouble—the more he thought, the clearer it was that he didn’t want a life that didn’t include soft kisses and steady hands, whispered praise and shared touches.
Chapter Eleven
Phillip was stationed at his monstrous fraud of a desk. It was the size of a dinghy and it was beyond Phillip’s imaginings why anybody needed such acreage on which to write their letters. He was determined to puzzle through his correspondence, but so far had only managed a single paragraph of a letter from the naval yard detailing the progress that was being made with thePatroclus.The clerk’s handwriting was a marvel of restraint, and Phillip could understand enough to grasp that the repairs were continuing on schedule, more or less. But his head was pounding, and there was nobody about to trick into reading the rest of his correspondence, so when he looked up and saw Sedgwick in the doorway, his annoyance was tempered by relief at having an excuse to stop reading. He stacked all the papers neatly and dropped them into a drawer.
“How can I help you, Sedgwick?” Phillip asked frostily.Go away, he wanted to plead. The way Sedgwick had looked at him after that ill-advised kiss had been like a bucket of icy water in Phillip’s face. He had felt guilty, sordid, unworthy. And now the man was back to torture him some more? It really was most unfair.
Sedgwick ought to be safely tucked in his bed, or saying his prayers, or visiting the drawing room of the lady he intended to marry. He was going to go off and have a nice, pleasant, safe life. That was all well and good, even if the idea of Sedgwick living at the vicarage with a faceless wife and a passel of towheaded children made him feel vaguely ill. A dalliance with Phillip would likely plunge the man into some kind of moral panic. Phillip didn’t want to be the subject of anyone’s penance or regrets. He would never again enter into an arrangement where convenience outweighed honesty, and he didn’t know precisely where he stood. His heart wasn’t cut out for it.
Sedgwick had his hands stuffed in his pockets and he was shifting foot to foot. “Well,” he said, “I came to talk about Jamie.”
“What about him?” It came out harsher than Phillip had intended. “Is he all right?” The lad had seemed fine at dinner—Sedgwick had led him through the usual mealtime mathematic acrobatics while Phillip tried not to look at Sedgwick.
“Oh, quite. I wanted to speak with you about hiring a tutor.” He pulled a folded square of paper from his coat pocket. “I wrote to an acquaintance of mine.” He was holding the paper between two fingers as if he weren’t quite sure what to do with it. “Well, really a friend of my father’s. He’s a mathematician in Edinburgh. I thought Jamie might enjoy seeing what can be done with his talent but it isn’t my strong suit, you see. And I hoped this friend of my father’s could point us in the direction of a suitable tutor.”
Phillip frowned. “Won’t he learn that in school?” Wasn’t that the point? Phillip was spending time with the children so they would ultimately trust his decision to send them to school. School was undoubtedly the best place for them in his absence. That way they could be with other children and, well, learn the things children needed to learn in order to belong in the world.
“Jamie’s abilities are a bit... varied from those of other children his age. Perhaps school would be... tedious for him.” Sedgwick was lying. Phillip didn’t know about what, and he couldn’t imagine why, but the man didn’t have a face made for deceit. He hoped the vicar didn’t make a habit of playing cards, because he’d be fleeced by anyone with the slightest bit of cunning. “I didn’t want to send the letter without your permission.” He stepped forward and placed the paper on Phillip’s desk.
Phillip shook his head in frustration and leaned back, as if to distance himself from the paper. “Just do as you see fit.”
“Oh.” Sedgwick looked deflated. “Well, then.” He made no move to leave. “I thought you might take an interest. But I see that I misjudged.”
Phillip sighed. “You have the wrong end of the stick. I trust your judgment, that’s all. If you think Jamie needs a mathematics tutor, then I agree.”
“Oh.” The vicar looked taken aback, but not displeased.
“You look as if you expected an argument. I keep telling you that I’m not a monster.”
“I’m well aware that you’re not a monster.” Sedgwick’s eyes opened wide and his cheeks darkened. For a moment Phillip saw a flash of temper in the young vicar’s face, something he had caught a glimpse of that first day when Phillip had grabbed his arm in the hall. “If you think that I’d do... what we did... with someone I thought a monster, you’re grossly mistaken.”
“Go to bed, Sedgwick. I can’t figure out what you’re still doing here.”
“Can’t you?” Sedgwick said, his voice low with anger. Phillip’s cock pricked up in a way it surely ought not to have.
“This may amaze you, Sedgwick, but I can’t be bothered to imagine the secret workings of your brain. All I know is that you’ve been following me about like a stray dog for two days, and then when I—today at the farm, you looked at me like I had slapped you.”
“Well, I’ll spare you the hassle, then.” Sedgwick shut the door, and Phillip’s mouth went dry. “I’m here—like a stray dog, very flattering, I thank you—because I enjoy your company, you infuriating man. I like you, and I thought we were becoming friends, and—”
