Secret Of The Manor (19 page)

When Alex moved Warren’s chin to take a closer look at the fine cuts on his cheek, he kissed the area before applying the salve. “I know you didn’t have much of a choice, being dragged into this, but now that I know you, I wouldn’t want anyone else in my corner.” Their lips touched and the comfort they gave melted any remaining indignation away. Warren was back on track.

The men were enjoying some more comfort when Warren’s phone shrilled out. The minute he answered it, he heard Carl’s loud, worried voice. “I’ve just finished on the phone with James.”

Warren groaned. “Sorry, Carl. I was going to call you after I got my head on straight.”

“Bloody tosser, leaving you to fend for yourself.”

“You didn’t say that to him, did you?”

“I damned well did,” Carl affirmed with conviction.

Warren ran his free hand through his hair. “Oh dear.”

Carl was unperturbed and on a mission. “He ain’t the only one, either, me lad. Yum a bloody turnip, too, for not calling me.”

“Sorry, Carl.” Upon reflection, he’d like to have had the man at his side and regretted not calling him.

“Ahh, see you don’t do it again,” Carl reprimanded. “I’m up to speed on what happened. Make no mistake; even if the bastard don’t want it, I’ll be having words with Oliver. Anyhow, what I want to know is how you’re holdin’ up.”

“I’m better than I was, thanks. Alex is here, making sure my cuts and bruises are taken care of properly.”

“Yeah. James mentioned he was over with you. He’ll be a distraction, at the least.”

Carl was on the money with his statement. Parts of Warren’s face were sore, but Alex was being gentle in his passion.

The events of the day were taking their toll, and Warren was at his limit. “I’ll pop over and see you in the morning, if that’s okay. We can have a good talk then.”

“Sounds like a plan. Any later than ten o’clock and I’ll kick ‘ur arse so hard, you’ll think a donkey’s done it,” Carl chided.

“Yes, Carl.”

“Alright then, go cuddle up to your young man. And be bloody careful.”

“Yes, Carl.”

The men hung up, and Warren returned to his distraction. “Can you stay tonight?”

“Of course.”

THAT NIGHT Warren and Alex curled up together in one bed. And, for the first time in many years, Warren enjoyed the safety of loving arms around him all through the darkened hours. Yes, he ached. Yes, he shook from the memories. With every intake of breath and every swallow, he gagged at the lingering effects of vegetation in his ears, nose, and throat. But each time he shuddered, Alex made his presence known and soothed him back to slumber.

The following morning, Alex brought Warren breakfast in bed, and the two men relaxed until Warren dragged himself from under the covers to go see Carl.

WARREN ENTERED Carl’s home to find him on the phone. Carl turned around at the movement and held up a finger, indicating he’d be finished soon.

“I don’t give a rat’s arse, Oliver. My boy could have died at the hands of that bloody woman. So you aren’t cutting me out of the loop now. If you do, I’ll be sure to dump a load of horseshit on your drive, and then see how you explain that away to the village gossips.”

A raised voice was audible on the other end of the line, and Warren could imagine the indignation in the lord of the manor’s reply. Warren didn’t think anyone but Carl would be able to get away talking to a lord in such a way. At least people knew where they stood with the man.

“You just try me, Oliver. As kids I never said anything I didn’t mean to ye, and I ‘aven’t changed.” More mumbles ensued. “Yeah, see you do. Bye for now.”

The call abruptly ended, and Carl turned to Warren. “You. Sit!”

Warren sank into the nearest chair and stayed there. Minutes later, Carl appeared with two huge mugs of tea and handed one to Warren. “Have you eaten?”

“Yes.”

“You hurtin’?”

“I’m getting there.”

Carl nodded. “Good.” He reached behind him to the table, produced a plastic bag, and handed it to Warren. “From Eileen. There’s some arnica in there for your bruises. You got one coming up nice on the side of your face there. And some other bits ‘n’ bobs she reckons ‘ll come in handy. Oh, and Argo’s going to be okay, but he’s a touch stiff on his left shoulder. We’ll take care of that. He’ll be right as rain in a few days.”

Anger spiked in Warren at the injury done to Argo. At least he was in sound hands. A lump formed in Warren’s throat at Eileen’s thoughtfulness. “She’s an angel.”

The men were quiet for a few minutes as they drank some of the tea.

Carl’s brow furrowed. “Are you alright, though?”

Warren sighed. “Yeah. I’m a bit shaken up. But I’m a whole lot better than I was yesterday. Alex has been a big help. He explained what he went through at the start of all this and has given me support in ways I neither expected nor knew I needed.”

“That’s good.” Carl then pointed a finger at Warren. “You pull a bloody stunt like that again, by not calling me, and... and... and I’ll put you in charge of kids’ activities all through the summer.”

Warren shuddered and smiled.

Albeit Carl was a force of nature, Warren wasn’t about to submit without putting across his point of view. “In hindsight I wish I had called you. But plants had just tried to bury me next to Nicholas. I was shaking like a sodding leaf. My horse had trapped a witch. And the last thing I wanted was to call you away from a bunch of people who would ask too many questions. Given the time, I had to make a decision, and I thought James was the most logical choice.”

They exchanged more words in a debate over what should and shouldn’t have happened. A bluster or two later, both came to the conclusion that, no matter what, Warren would have called James.

“Someone or something is looking out for me, Carl,” Warren announced.

“Oh aye?”

“I have no doubt Argo did his fair share of defending me. But at some point Ebony Air took over and finished the job. There’s a good element out there trying to break through. I’m sure of it.”

“Do you think it could be Nicholas?”

Warren thought for a while and scrunched his nose. “Doubtful. If Nicholas was versed in anything akin to witchcraft, he’d have been protected from this mess in the first place.”

“Maybe whatever is keeping an eye on you managed to add a loophole to the original curse. We’ve just got to find it.”

“The more I think about it, the more I think that’s possible. Alex hasn’t a clue how he managed to interrupt the joust.” Warren shifted his bottom further into his seat, as though he was conspiring to develop a secret plan. “In theory, if the curse was at full strength, the opposing knight at the joust should have been able to kill me. I was on the ground at his mercy. James is right; Alex did save me.”

“Damn, I wish Loopy was still around. I could have asked her,” Carl lamented.

“Who’s Loopy?”

“The lass I told you about at our first meeting with James and Alex. The one as was into witchcraft.”

Warren vaguely remembered Carl mentioning such a lady. But at the time his brain had been focused elsewhere. “Do you have a contact number for her?”

“Nah. She didn’t give me a forwarding address.”

Warren grimaced at another avenue shut to them, and it was dangerous to ask too many questions over the Internet. “Given what we know about Carol, do you think your girl may have been ‘ridden out of town’, so to speak?”

“Not too sure what to think at the moment. But I believe you’re on to something with this extra force.” Carl disappeared to the kitchen with the mugs and returned with them refilled and the biscuit tin, which he offered to Warren.

Warren moaned in delight as the baked oats from his chocolate Hobnob scratched his throat, taking with it the bits of root he imagined remained there. A mouthful of soothing tea later and he was good to go again. “From what I saw and from what Alex said last night, there is another barrier keeping the curse in place. It’s well hidden, too.”

“Now that Oliver has Carol, he’ll find a way to search everywhere she went.”

“It’ll be like finding a needle in a haystack. It could be anything, and they’ve had centuries to hide it.”

“Speaking of Carol, what is Oliver going to do with her?”

“She’s currently a guest of his lordship, with a room in the far corner of the manor. Not sure how he’ll keep that a secret. Anyhow, with her familiar gone and many of her devices destroyed, she’s nowhere near as effective as she was.”

Carl interrupted him. “So you think she still has some power?”

“Unless she’s one hell of a bluffer, yes. She was far too confident for me to believe destroying objects was going to completely take her down. This curse has been going too long for such an act to be the end of it.”

“Okay then. How is Oliver stopping her using magic while at the manor?”

Warren thought back to snippets of conversation from the previous evening. “Alex mentioned something about salt over entrances and exits, a pentagram, and a binding spell that was used by that ancestor of theirs who ate—”

Carl held his hand up. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. No need to say any more. That particular story got my gut churning, and I don’t want to bring back breakfast, thank you. So, Oliver believes he has her contained. What’s he going to do if she stays quiet as the grave?”

“His intentions are to see if he
can
get more information out of her, and then turn her over to the church. He’s kept enough evidence to make a damning case against her.”

Carl scrunched his face. “Does that mean the church will help with the curse?”

“Nope. The man’s keeping tight-lipped about that. I hate to say it, but I can understand his motives. Even with being gay more accepted, the media would have a field day.”

“Yeah. Not only would his family be the centre of attention, but we’d have every nutter in creation pawing over the area—the good and the bad.” Carl took a long, deep breath. “The silly sod needs to accept that there are some people out there he can trust, though.”

“I guess he’s a stubborn man and things are what they are.”

“Mmm. You leave Oliver to me. You get better and develop those ideas you were having.”

“Will do.”

When Carl checked his watch, he swore. “Oh, bugger, my afternoon bunch will be arriving soon.”

That was effectively the end of their conversation, and once Warren had given Argo a carrot and a good-boy pet, the men went their separate ways.

WHEN WARREN returned to the cottage, Alex had prepared some sandwiches for lunch and was wearing his own clothes. Warren greeted him with a kiss. “Was looking forward to seeing you in... less.”

Alex looked at his large woollen jumper. “James dropped them in for me, but I can change if you wish?”

“Mmm, tempting. So tempting.” Talk ceased for several minutes while the men indulged in a proper hello, which included lips, tongue, and a grope an octopus would have been proud of.

Unfortunately, Warren’s grumbling stomach put a stop to their activities and re-focused them on more practical actions.

Later, as Warren transferred their plates to the dishwasher, he turned to Alex, who’d retrieved a pack of cards from the junk drawer. “Are you going home today?”

“Not if you don’t want me to.”

Warren had never wanted Alex to return to Malvern after Christmas. But Alex’s original reply regarding the ability to move about had stayed with him. “I thought you needed your space.”

“After what you went through, you need me more.”

Warren was taken aback by the resolution in Alex’s voice and humbled by his willingness to give up his freedom to stay with him. Then a light switched on in Warren’s head. “How about we take off for the day, completely away from the area. London, perhaps? We could start out early tomorrow and drive to Oxford—that’s far enough away not to have locals at the station—then take the train to the capital. We could be there for breakfast. The chances of us bumping into a person we know are beyond slim.” Warren quickly racked his brain for activities. “With everything that is going on, I feel some changes to my wardrobe are in order. The distraction, too, would be most welcome.” Warren fidgeted a moment before adding, “If you wish, we could get you some things to keep here? It would save having to pack a bag every weekend.”

The scrape of the chair interrupted Warren’s awkwardness. Soon, his arms were filled with an enthusiastic Alex. “A taste of normality is a splendid idea.”

For the remainder of the day, the men played cards, looked up attractions on the Internet, made out, watched films while making out, and generally relaxed, getting to know each other outside of matters relating to the curse.

Early the following morning, before the sun rose, Alex and Warren were out and well on their way to Oxford to catch the six o’clock train. They arrived at London–Paddington Station at seven and indulged in a hearty breakfast at a local café before taking the underground into central London.

They spent the morning on a whistle-stop tour of the top attractions. Their first stop was the London Eye. As they gazed over the concrete forest of London, Alex snuggled Warren from behind while Warren pointed out places of interest from his past in the big city. Around Madame Tussauds, excitement reigned as each dragged the other over to a favourite character. Both had their pictures taken with Captain Jack Sparrow. And in the planetarium, Alex and Warren laced fingers while gazing at the solar system above.

After a brief burger lunch on the Thames, where they took a breather and relaxed on a bench with a hand slipped into the rear waistband of the other, they visited the British Museum. Neither man mentioned that they were spying ancient objects that could possibly be a horcrux of sorts. They knew their eventual find would not be in the museum, but there was a possibility the antiquities on show could shine a light on the available options.

The following four-plus hours were spent updating both men’s lines in clothing. Alex and Warren returned to Oxford laden with several bright, striking shirts and ties, some smart casual wear, and a couple of other items to help coordinate the collection. Included in the packages was a suit scarf Alex had taken a fancy to. It became an absolute must after Alex wrapped the blue garment around Warren’s neck and pulled him into a sultry and all-too-brief kiss with it.