Never a Road Without a Turning (16 page)

“For me?”

Ash nodded. “I can’t have you catching another chill, now can I?”

Feeling slightly placated by the gesture, Pip gave the man a small smile and sat to put them on. “Do ye want me to find somethin’ to read, or can we dispense with the niceties and go on upstairs?” he asked with a wink as he wriggled his toes into the plush lining of his slippers.

Ash squirmed in his seat and looked away. After clearing his throat, he said, “I think it would be better if we stayed down here tonight.”

Pip raised his eyebrows. They had a greater risk of being caught down there than in the man’s rooms, but he shrugged. He wasn’t exactly against the idea of them having a go at each another in the library. Pip grinned and closed the distance between them. “If that’s what ye want….”

He sank to his knees in front of Ash’s chair and reached for the placket of the man’s trousers only to be stopped by Ash’s hands on his wrists.

“I didn’t mean that. Not here, Phillip.”

Pip growled and stood up. “What do ye want, then?”

Ash closed his eyes and rubbed at the bridge of his nose. He sighed heavily and took a large swallow from his whisky glass before he said, “I want peace in my house. I want you to no longer be angry with me. That’s what I want.”

“Then come upstairs,” Pip said and walked out the door without looking back. If the man insisted on being so bloody high-handed all the time, then Pip would give him a little of his own medicine, see how he liked it.

Ash made him wait. Pip didn’t hear the man’s limping footsteps in the hall until he’d been buried beneath the blankets for a good five minutes. When he did arrive, he was silent while Pip undressed him, the passion in his eyes muted compared to their other encounters, and Pip began to feel guilty for pushing him.

In an attempt to make amends, Pip asked, “If I were to answer yer questions from last night, would it be fair to expect a return in kind, then?”

Without waiting for an answer, Pip pushed Ash down on the bed, began nibbling his neck, just below the ear, and rolling the man’s nipples between his thumbs and forefingers.

Ash swallowed and took a shuddering breath. “Quid pro quo? I… suppose that would be fair.”

Pip wrapped his hand around Ash’s rapidly filling prick. “I’m from London… originally.”

Ash moaned and thrust into his grip. “Devon. The—the family seat is in Devon,” he panted as Pip gave his cock a few pumps and bent to suck one of Ash’s nipples.

Pip released the swollen nub and grinned against the man’s chest. “That weren’t me question, but glad to ’ear it.”

Ash growled and Pip chuckled.

“Then ask me one, brat,” Ash demanded impatiently.

Pip grinned and bent to suck the other nipple before he said, “For that affront, I think I deserve a big question. Hmmmmm. ’ow ’bout, why on earth would a fine, intelligent gentleman like yerself ship ’imself off to war as a surgeon when ’e coulda’ stayed ’ome, safe and comfortable in ’is own bed?”

The question had been plaguing Pip since Mrs. Applethwaite told him of it. Coming from a life of abject poverty and strife, it always seemed beyond madness that anyone would leave behind all that privilege and prestige to throw their lives away for God and country.

But it was the wrong thing to ask.

Ash’s entire body tensed beneath Pip, and his chest bumped Pip’s chin as the man struggled to sit up. Pip put a hand on his arm to stop him from going any further. “Wait. Forget I asked.”

The story had to have more to it than a simple desire to do his patriotic duty and all that rubbish. Pip was even more curious now, but he let it go in favor of better things.

He crawled on top of Ash, resting his hands on Ash’s shoulders and straddling his hips so he couldn’t get away. “Touchy,” Pip admonished as he pressed his chest to Ash’s and ground their cocks together to soothe the man.

Ash closed his eyes and allowed Pip to push him back into the pillows. And when Pip felt Ash’s hips arching upward, meeting Pip’s thrusts, he tried again. “All right. Let’s see. The gossips said ye didn’t come ’ome after old Boney surrendered. Would ye tell me where ye went after?”

Ash’s expression was still guarded, but his cheeks were flushed and his eyes dark as he rocked against Pip. “Nepal and the East Indies,” he panted, “and then the Cape.”

Pip smiled and bent to kiss him in reward.

Ash reached up and cupped Pip’s jaw. He pressed their foreheads together and held Pip there as he said, “My turn.” He took a few panting breaths before asking, “Why did you leave London?”

Pip groaned. The blood pumping in his ears and the throbbing in his cock as he thrust it against Ash’s was not quite enough to stop the sudden twist in his belly. His rhythm faltered a little. “Which time?” he asked evasively.

“The first,” Ash breathed back as he thrust harder and faster against Pip.

Instead of answering, Pip surrendered to the pleasure building between them, closed his eyes, and cried out his release, painting Ash’s stomach and cock with his spend. Ash gripped the back of Pip’s neck hard and pumped against Pip’s sensitive prick until jets of his own spend joined Pip’s.

Pip collapsed beside him and they both lay panting on the bed. Ash obviously recovered more quickly—
again
—for he rolled onto his side facing Pip and lifted an eyebrow in question, obviously waiting for Pip for fulfill their bargain.

Pip sighed. “I left because Master Carey took an interest in me and sent me away to school with Vicar ’alford.”

He didn’t lie. Ash simply didn’t need to know the rest—how broken Pip had been, how in need of the salvation Mr. Carey and the vicar had offered him.

The sweat and other fluids on his body were cooling quickly, so Pip hopped out of bed to grab a flannel from the washstand, avoiding Ash’s gaze as he did. The water from the ewer was icy, and Pip only did a cursory wipe down before hurrying back to the bed and handing the flannel to Ash. Ash didn’t complain as he wiped the remnants of their coupling from his belly and handed the flannel back to Pip, but his nipples tightened prettily and gooseflesh spread over his pale skin. Pip tossed the flannel in the general direction of the washstand and pulled the blankets over them both as fast as he could.

When Pip was settled against his side again, Ash said, “I remember Mr. Carey’s name from the references Mrs. Applethwaite forwarded to me. But who is he to you that he would take such an interest?”

Pip kept his grin to himself as he toyed with one of Ash’s nipples. Was that a hint of jealousy in his master’s voice?

“It isn’t your turn to ask the question,” he said smugly.

Ash harrumphed. “Well then ask yours so you can answer mine,” he said petulantly.

Pip had planned to tease the man some more, but when Ash dropped a hand to his injured thigh and began rubbing it beneath the covers, Pip’s playful mood dissipated. “What was it like in the East Indies?” he asked, instead of the myriad more personal questions he wanted answered.

“Hot.”

Pip stopped toying with Ash’s nipple and flicked it hard with a fingernail. Ash yelped, writhing away from Pip until Pip pinned him to the mattress. “Oh, all right. It was strange, beautiful… frightening. The air was redolent with spices and exotic flowers. There was so much color and ornament all around I was overwhelmed when I first experienced it. There’s no subtlety in anything there, not the food, nor the decoration or clothing. And yet all that richness is contrasted sharply with the filth and abject poverty of the lower castes. But I suppose the same could be said about London, now that I’m thinking about it.” Ash sighed and put a hand over the one Pip still had on his chest. “I fear I did not much enjoy my time there. I didn’t always agree with the choices and policies of my superiors, particularly with regards to their treatment of the local peoples. But my duties in the surgery kept me quite busy… although I was more often called upon for my skills in medicine than with the knife due the various fevers and cholera outbreaks.”

Pip was silent as he tried to imagine what it must have been like. The best he could manage was a vision of an ornamental garden he’d seen once, but where the flowers were actually exotic birds, animals, and people all mashed together and noisy like in the London markets.

“Will you answer my question about your Mr. Carey now?” Ash asked grumpily. His eyes were closed, and he seemed only moments away from falling asleep.

Pip leaned over him and kissed his brow. “Tomorrow,” he whispered.

Ash’s brow furrowed and he grumbled a little more, but soon enough his quiet snores filled the room. Pip stayed, watching over the man in his sleep until he could barely keep his own eyes open. As carefully as he could, he slid out of bed and pulled on his clothes. Then he poured another shovelful of coal on the fire and crept out of the room.

T
HE
FOLLOWING
day Pip was in much better spirits than he’d been the day before. He’d managed to pull another few stones from the wall around Ash, and he was looking forward to having another crack at it after supper. When he’d finished with all the tasks Mrs. Applethwaite set for him, Pip happily went back to the barn to get the horse ready for his afternoon ride. But he had a surprise waiting for him when he got there. Ash stood in the horse’s stall, and instead of the brush, he held a crop.

“Ash?” Pip asked uncertainly.

“Not a word, Phillip. Just help me determine how I’m going to get on the blasted thing before I lose my nerve.”

Pip wanted to argue. It should have made him happy that Ash finally wanted to try, but his gut clenched just thinking about Ash so far off the ground, without both legs to use for balance and control. The look on Ash’s face was determined, however, and Pip had neither the heart nor the right to tell him he couldn’t do it. The connection they’d made was much too fragile for Pip to presume upon it like that, and Pip was fairly certain he wouldn’t like the outcome if he tried.

The horse was sweet-tempered enough, but it would have been better if Ash had given Pip some warning of his intent so he could prepare the creature or find someone to train him.

“Are you going to help me or not?” Ash demanded impatiently, all traces of the man he’d lain with the night before gone, replaced with the haughtiness and coldness Pip had come to expect from the gentry.

“Of course,
sir
. Certainly,
sir.
Beggin’ yer pardon,
sir
,” Pip said as he stomped to the back of the stable in search of something for Ash to use as a mounting block.

He found the crates Ash’s books came packed in, piled in a corner, and dragged them to the aisle outside of the horse’s stall. Without a word or even a glance in Ash’s direction, he stacked one on top of the other two, up against a wall, and went to collect the horse’s saddle.

As the heavy silence stretched between them, Pip saddled the horse and led it past Ash to where he’d left the crates. Once there, he stood at the horse’s head, held him steady, and waited like any proper groom.

After only a few moments pause, he heard Ash sigh and begin to make his way to the horse’s side. But when Ash made no move to climb onto the crates, Pip felt a sudden pang of guilt despite his anger. He could only imagine how hard this must be for the man.

With only a tiny bit of sullenness creeping into his tone, Pip asked, “Would you like me to fetch Mr. Applethwaite to ’elp, sir?”

“No.” Ash bit out that one word, and Pip clenched his jaw and held his tongue.

Several long minutes ticked past as Pip held the horse’s lead and Ash stood next to the crates. When the waiting became too much, Pip peered around the horse. Ash’s shoulders were slumped. He was staring disconsolately at the crates while a muscle ticked in his jaw.

“Ash?”

Ash straightened suddenly and shook his head. “Forget it. It’s not going to work.”

Before Pip could think of something to say, Ash limped past him, moving faster than Pip had ever seen before. Pip quickly tied the reins so the horse wouldn’t get into trouble and ran after him. But Mrs. Applethwaite was standing on the stoop outside the kitchen door, so Pip could do nothing but watch Ash make his way into the house.

“What is it, Pip?” Mrs. Applethwaite called to him.

“Nothing, Missus. I think the master is tired, is all.”

Mrs. Applethwaite didn’t appear much satisfied with his answer, but Pip didn’t really care. He desperately wanted to go after Ash, to talk to him, or hold him, or whatever the man would allow, but he hadn’t been sent for, and he had no reason to be in the house otherwise. He ground his teeth in frustration, spun around, and stalked back to the stable. He didn’t want to go out riding anymore, but the horse was saddled now, and the beast would be in a miff if Pip didn’t give him some exercise before putting him away for the night.

With a heavy heart, Pip walked the horse through the gate, climbed on its back, and gave the gelding his head. The horse had obviously picked up on the tension in the air because it took off like a shot, racing across the fells until Pip’s hands were numb on the reins and his face and head ached with the cold. He took no joy in the ride, and he headed straight back for the cottage as soon as the horse slowed, rather than lingering on the slopes, as was his wont.