Page 56 of Two Rogues Make a Right
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I’m here, full stop, because it’s my home, because—as you said two minutes ago—it’s where you are, you monumental lackwit.”
“Are you certain?” Martin asked, managing to look both pleased and guilty at once.
“I don’t know how to make you believe this if you don’t already, but I want to be with you every morning and every night and most of the minutes in between. Andnotbecause I think you need looking after, so don’t even start. I can see with my own eyes that you’ve managed to take care of yourself.” He had already noticed the jars of medicines on the chimneypiece, the stack of clean linen, the way Daisy had the hamper of food already prepared. “But I’d like to do it anyway.”
“I want it to be a choice for you,” Martin said.
Will could have laughed at the idea. A choice, as if walking away were even an option. He couldn’t have walked away from Martin any more than he could have walked away from his own arm, nor did he want to. “Loving you is a part of me, probably the best part of me, and even if you want to argue with me about that—and why the hell do you want to, Martin, really—Iwantto be with you, to be near you, to do what I can to make you happy. A choice,” he said, shaking his head. “A choice. It’s the only choice I want to make.”
Maybe that was a satisfactory answer, or maybe Martin had enough sentiment, but either way he let Will pull him into his lap, let himself be held and kissed.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Shadowy twilight had become full moonless dark, and their kisses had devolved into an undisguised and blatant attempt to be pressed close together, a clinging reassurance, more relief than heat. “Let me take you to bed,” Will said, speaking the words against Martin’s mouth. And then, at a greater distance, “I didn’t mean—we don’t—”
“I know.” Martin got to his feet and coughed more than a few times, then downed the rest of his tea. He climbed into bed and watched Will undress, admiring in a detached and tired sort of way. When Will slid between the covers beside him, the mattress shifted and Martin let himself be tilted into Will’s body, his face in the crook of Will’s neck, one hand toying with a strand of Will’s hair.
“I’m going to say this once and I promise I won’t belabor the point,” Martin said. He brought his hand to Will’s shoulder and traced small circles around the winged birds he knew were inked there. “But if you begin to feel penned in here, you can go where you please and I’ll be waiting for you when you get back.”
“Can’t really imagine why I’d want to go anywhere without you, but—” Will broke off, then brought his hand up to trap Martin’s hand against his upper arm. “What are you on about?”
“Ever since we were little children you wanted adventures.”
“I’ve had my fair share,” Will said dryly.
“It’s just that, even on board the ship, even when things were... bad...” Martin drew up his courage. He never brought up this topic, never said anything to prompt Will to speak of it. “You still had these done.”
“I did,” Will said slowly.
“Birds in flight. It’s not a subtle metaphor, William. Even then you wanted to explore.”
“It’s not a subtle—well thank God you aren’t a literary critic. Christ, Martin, I’ve been very stupid this past week but you win the prize.” His shoulders were shaking with, Martin was stunned to realize, laughter.
“Care to let me in on the joke?” he asked as sniffily as he could, but the sad fact was that Will’s laughter completely robbed him of any acerbity.
“They’re swallows, you daft bastard. Swallows always return home to nest. Sailors say that if you get one inked on your body it’s a promise that you’ll arrive home. Or, if you don’t, at least your soul will be carried back. I had these done after I was disrated—officers don’t get tattoos, but sailors often do, so... when in Rome, I suppose.”
“The sailors liked you,” Martin said, and it wasn’t a question. “Even though they were ready to mutiny and, presumably, do away with all the officers onboard.”
“Well, they probably wouldn’t have killed the surgeon,” Will said mildly. “But yes, they didn’t like the officers, but I suppose I had been treated as badly as anybody so we had a common enemy.”
“And when they started talking about mutiny...” Martin said, hoping Will would keep talking.
“I kept reminding them that all we had do to was get home. The navy has a way of dealing with tyrannical captains. But if we mutinied, a number of the lads would be hanged or be forced to live the rest of their lives as fugitives. There were still incidents,” Will said, and Martin suspected he referred to the sailors at whose courts martial Will testified, “but we got home with no life lost.”
“So that’s what the birds meant? A reminder that your problems would be solved when you got home?”
“Partly. I was in general rather preoccupied with the idea of getting home and seeing you again, idiot.” He kissed Martin’s forehead.
“Seeing me?”
“Martin,” Will said, and Martin could feel the smile against his skin. “Dozens upon dozens of letters. Three indelibly drawn birds with your name on them. And still you act surprised to discover that the thing I want foremost in the world is to be with you.”
“With my name—” Oh.Oh.He propped himself up on his elbow to examine the birds’ roughly drawn black-and-white markings by the faint starlight. They weren’t common swallows, but rather house martins. “This is—appallingly sentimental, if I’m honest.” But there were tears in his eyes, and Will was already pulling him down for a kiss.
“I knew you needed spectacles,” Will said fondly.
