Conquer the Flames (Langs Down) (28 page)

Ian brought the mask back to Thorne. “Until we find a place to hang it, we can stand it on the chest in my room if you want,” he offered. “It won’t be as visible if anyone comes to visit, but we’ll see it and it will be safe from harm.”

As far as Thorne was concerned, it could stay in Ian’s room forever if that meant Thorne got to be there with him. He couldn’t think of anywhere he’d rather have the protective spirit holding sway. “I think that sounds perfect.”

He took the mask back and followed Ian into his bedroom, the one room in the house he hadn’t gone into until now. It was furnished in much the same way as the rest of the house, hand-carved wooden furniture and soft, muted colors. A beautiful earth-toned quilt over the foot of the bed drew Thorne’s attention. “Do you quilt as well?”

“No,” Ian said with a laugh. “Carley made that for me when I wouldn’t let her pay me for the bed I made Jason when he decided he had to have a bunk bed. Somehow I think I got the better end of the deal. The bed wasn’t anything out of the ordinary.”

Thorne didn’t think anything Ian made could be “ordinary” even when it was purely functional, because it was all handmade and unique.

Ian stood the mask up on the chest of drawers opposite the foot of the bed. “There,” he said. “Now it can watch over you as you sleep.”

“It can watch over us both,” Thorne corrected.

Ian smiled and leaned in for another soft kiss, which Thorne gave willingly.

“I should clear some space for your clothes too,” Ian said when he pulled back. “Go get your duffel and bring it in here while I do that.”

Twenty

C
HRISTMAS
started as early on Lang Downs as any other day, Thorne discovered when Ian’s alarm went off at the same ungodly hour as every other day. But it was still Christmas, and Thorne was pretty sure it would be the best one in twenty years. No other Christmas had started with him waking up next to an incredibly attractive man with the relative assurance of being able to do so again the next day, and the day after, and the day after that. No other Christmas had started with soft kisses and tender fingers running through his hair. No other Christmas had started with the man he’d fallen in love with on a station he finally believed he could call home.

“We’ll miss breakfast if we don’t get up,” Ian murmured between kisses.

“It’s Christmas,” Thorne protested.

“Yes, I know,” Ian said. “That’s why we don’t want to miss breakfast. Kami and Sarah do a full English breakfast on Christmas morning, along with all the pastries and sweet buns you can imagine. And then this afternoon we’ll have dinner early. Last year Sarah even made mulled wine and cider.”

“You’d think it was cold outside,” Thorne said, “and here it is going to be in the forties again today. Shorts and T-shirts and mulled wine or cider to drink. Something’s wrong with this picture.”

“Like any Christmas you’ve ever celebrated has been any different,” Ian scoffed. “It’s miserably hot outside, but we cling to our British roots like they’re all we have left.”

Thorne couldn’t argue with that. He hadn’t had much opportunity to celebrate Christmas in the Commandos, but he remembered growing up and always having a traditional Christmas dinner with his family before going out to the beach to swim or surf.

“Okay, you’ve convinced me,” Thorne said. “Let’s get the celebration started.”

They dressed quickly and headed for the canteen. Thorne hadn’t asked when they usually exchanged presents on the station, but Ian hadn’t mentioned it this morning, so he figured his gift could wait where it was hidden until later. He hated that he hadn’t had the time or opportunity to find the perfect gift for Ian, but at least he’d selected something Ian would appreciate and use. Ian had muttered more than once recently about how ragged his hat was getting, and how the droop of the brim blocked his vision more than it blocked the sun. He’d checked the size one night while Ian was cleaning up before dinner and had offered to take the next supply run to Boorowa so he could buy a replacement. It wasn’t the perfect gift, but he hoped Ian would like it.

As promised, breakfast was twice as plentiful as usual, with far more choices. Thorne wasn’t even sure where to start, but Ian didn’t have a problem, making a beeline for the table with the pastries on it. Thorne had figured out Ian had a sweet tooth, but today he was like a little kid on Christmas morning, an appropriate metaphor for the day.

The canteen, usually so quiet in the morning, was filled with cheerful if sleepy calls of “Happy Christmas”—and Caine’s very American “Merry Christmas” in reply. They all lingered a little longer than usual over breakfast, but work eventually demanded their attention. The station didn’t stop running because it was Christmas day.

Thorne expected some grumbles about that, but the special breakfast and the prospect of dinner, or simply the Christmas spirit, was enough to silence any remarks. Ian was on a crew assigned to jobs in the valley that morning, so Thorne could tag along with him instead of working with someone else. His equestrian skills were improving, but not to the point that he could ride out with the others yet. “Soon,” Ian said whenever Thorne asked.

None of the jackaroos was what Thorne would call lazy, but they all threw themselves into their tasks with extra enthusiasm.

“They know the sooner everything gets done, the sooner we can stop for the day,” Ian explained at one point. It made sense, and everyone’s focus paid off. By noon, they’d finished their tasks and headed back to the bunkhouse or their individual houses to clean up before dinner.

“I don’t have anything really nice to wear to dinner,” Thorne said as they walked back to Ian’s house.

“Nothing is formal on the station,” Ian said. “I’ll wear my nice boots instead of my grubby ones and maybe a pair of khakis instead of jeans, but that’s as fancy as it gets around here.”

“I can handle that,” Thorne replied with a grin. “I’m used to military formal, dress uniforms and the like.”

“You’d stick out like a sore thumb if you dressed up like that here,” Ian said. “Carley and Linda might put on sundresses. Molly would, except I don’t know if she has one that will fit over her belly. But even that is as much about temperature as being dressed up.”

“Does that mean you’ll wear a short-sleeved shirt?” Thorne teased.

“No, because we’ll probably end up outside after dinner, and I don’t want to get sunburned. Sunscreen is all well and good, but it wears off, and then I’m the color of a lobster.”

Thorne wanted to cajole, for the opportunity to stare at Ian’s arms in public if nothing else, but he couldn’t argue with the sunburn part, and he didn’t want Ian in pain or in danger of skin cancer, so he’d save his ogling for later, in private. Ian still slept in his sleeveless T-shirt at night, but that gave Thorne access to his arms, at least.

They showered and changed quickly. Ian looked good enough to eat in his khakis and a cambric shirt one step up from his usual work shirts. Thorne would enjoy peeling it off him when they were finally alone tonight. It might not go any farther than that, but he’d cherish every intimacy Ian allowed him. The thought flitted through his head that perhaps tonight he would finally learn the truth of Ian’s past, but he wouldn’t push. Next week, if Ian hadn’t said anything, he’d ask again, but he wouldn’t spoil the day by asking tonight.

They’d just got seated, their plates overflowing with food, as promised, when Neil came up to the table and slapped them both on the shoulders. “Happy Christmas,” he said with his trademark grin.

“Happy Christmas,” Ian replied easily. Thorne repeated his own wishes as well.

“Thank you for the bedframe you made Dani,” Neil said. “She loved it. She’s all ready to be a big girl now and finally agreed the baby could use her cradle.”

“She’s been out of that thing for eighteen months,” Ian said with a shake of his head.

“I know,” Neil said, “but it was still hers, even when she wasn’t using it. Now she has her own special bed that’s far better than the cradle because Uncle Ian made it just for her.”

“I made the cradle for her too,” Ian pointed out.

“We’re trying not to remind her of that,” Neil said. “The cradle’s for babies. The new bed is just for her.”

“I’m glad she likes it,” Ian said.

“She does. She wanted to know when Uncle Ian and Uncle Thorne were coming over to see how it looks in her big girl room,” Neil said.

Ian must have answered because Neil nodded and walked off, but Thorne didn’t hear what either of them said for the rushing in his ears. Uncle Thorne… he’d given up on ever hearing that name when his brother died. Now in less than a month, he’d become honorary uncle to a domineering three-year-old who had the world wrapped around her little finger, as far as he could tell.

“Happy Christmas, mates.”

Thorne startled, reaching automatically for a weapon before he settled himself and summoned a smile for Chris and Jesse who, like Neil, seemed to be making the rounds of the tables.

“Happy Christmas,” Ian said. “Are you glad to have Seth home?”

“It’s always good to see him,” Chris said, “although I hate to see him leave when breaks are over.”

“I know, but he’s doing well in Sydney, right? I mean, he certainly seems happy,” Ian said.

“Yes, he seems to be doing well,” Chris replied. “I just wish he could get home more often.”

“We’re spoiled,” Ian said. “Most families don’t spend nearly as much time together, even if they all live in the same town.”

“I know,” Chris said, “but that doesn’t make it easier to see him leave.”

“Let him stretch his wings now and maybe someday he’ll come home to roost,” Ian said.

“I keep hoping,” Chris said. “Also, thank you for the new table for our veranda. Now we can actually set food out if we invite people over for a beer instead of having to traipse in and out of the house.”

“You’re welcome,” Ian said. “We expect an invitation to try it out soon.”

“As soon as we can make a run into town to get stuff for a party, you and Thorne are first on the list of guests,” Jesse promised.

“Did you make something for everyone on the station?” Thorne asked when Chris and Jesse headed off to get their own food.

“Not for everyone,” Ian said, “but I tried to make something for the year-rounders. The seasonal jackaroos come and go, but the others, they’re family.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed,” Thorne said. “You must have spent months working on Christmas presents.”

“Unless somebody needs something urgently, I tend to make things all year and give them at Christmas,” Ian explained. “Macklin lets me use one of the small sheds for my finished projects so they don’t clutter up my house, and everyone pretty much respects my privacy and doesn’t go looking to see what I might have made for them.”

“That’s got to get expensive,” Thorne said.

Ian shrugged. “I live on the station. I don’t go into town and blow my money on booze or anything else. I buy new gear when I need it, and everything else pretty much goes into the bank and sits there. I can afford to buy the wood to make nice gifts for my friends, and if it’s something for the station, like the chairs on the porch of the bunkhouse, Caine pays for the wood and for my labor, even though I keep telling him all he has to do is buy the wood.”

“You can say it as often as you like,” Sam said, joining them at the table. “You won’t get him to listen.”

“Happy Christmas, Sam,” Ian said with a smile.

“Happy Christmas, and thank you for the desk. It will be nice to have a place to work without always being in Caine’s space. He’s out in the paddocks more than he’s in the office these days, but it’s still very much his office.”

“You’re welcome,” Ian said. “I feel like that was more a ‘you’ gift than a ‘you and Jeremy’ gift. I hope Jeremy doesn’t mind.”

“He doesn’t,” Sam assured Ian. “It means I come home in the evenings instead of going back into the office to check that last thing I forgot.”

Ian chuckled. “It’s hard to leave work when you work where you live, isn’t it?”

“As if any of us are ever completely off duty,” Sam said with a laugh. “You have figured that out, haven’t you, Thorne?”

“After years in the military, I wouldn’t know any other way to be,” Thorne admitted. “Even when we weren’t on watch, it was understood we were still on duty if necessary.”

“I knew there was a reason you fit right in,” Sam said.

“Where’s Jeremy?” Thorne asked. It was almost as odd to see Sam without Jeremy as it was to see Caine without Macklin. He occasionally saw Jeremy or Macklin without their partners, but rarely the other way around.

“He went to Taylor Peak,” Sam said with a moue of displeasure on his face. “He’s setting himself up for disappointment, but he won’t stop trying.”

“Would you, if you were in his shoes and you and Neil had a falling out?” Ian asked.

“No,” Sam admitted, “but Caine took care of Neil’s prejudices, so I never had to fight that battle. Sometimes I think I’ll never repay everything I owe him.”

“I think,” Thorne said slowly, “that he doesn’t keep a tally sheet. I think he gives selflessly because he knows the loyalty and love he gets in return will carry him through the rest of his life.” He hadn’t thought in those terms before, not exactly, but the words certainly applied to his own feelings for the station owners. They’d given him a chance because he needed one and because Neil had asked them to for Ian’s benefit. They’d overlooked his temper and had let him start to put down roots. In return, he’d work to the point of exhaustion if they asked him to.