Eventually, when Nikolas was ready, he allowed Ben to come. Ben arched, unable to prevent his fingers snagging Nikolas’s hair. He was still coming down from his high when Nikolas slid up, seized his face and kissed Ben’s own spill back to him. It clearly wasn’t so much fun for Ben, and he was fought off until, both too winded with laugher to continue, they lay side by side in the ruined bed.
“It’s snowing again.”
Nikolas turned to follow Ben’s gaze. Suddenly, he flicked his eyes toward the door. He coughed and suggested, “You shower, maybe, and I’ll put more coffee on?” Ben nodded absentmindedly. Nikolas slunk downstairs and sheepishly opened the door.
§ § §
The rest of the day passed in lazy enjoyment of doing nothing very much. Radulf filled his afternoon glaring at Nikolas and shivering to make him feel guilty. By the time it was dark, the snow was deep, even under the edge of the trees where it had drifted. Ben was clearly feeling restless, so, under protest, Nikolas allowed himself to be dragged out for a walk to the lake. It was only fifty metres, but he didn’t have the childlike love of snow Ben, being English, did. He didn’t find it amusing to be hit by snow or to be shoved into a deep drift. It was much more amusing to push Ben into the lake and watch him flounder in the ice. They’d never put it to the test who was the faster runner; with suitable motivation, Nikolas discovered he could stay ahead of Ben just enough to reach the shelter of the lodge and a locked door before being caught. It was only when he promised to turn on the hot tub Ben promised not to beat him to a pulp.
Watching Ben in the ice had almost been as much fun as stripping him slowly and easing him into hot, bubbling water—almost, but not quite. Nikolas was just about to apologise to him in the way they both enjoyed most when Ben’s phone rang. Nikolas tried to stop him answering, but Ben held it out of his reach. “It might be Anna having the baby!” He thought it was funny and was still laughing when he took the call. Then he frowned and mouthed, “Ingrid,” at Nikolas. He climbed out of the water and went back inside. By the time Nikolas came in, Ben was dressing. “She thinks someone has tried to break in.”
“She should ring the police. Do you want me to come?”
“You want to have conversations with the police?”
“Ah, no, not particularly. Who am I today? I’ve forgotten. But take the dog. He’s good at barking at nothing.”
§ § §
When Ben got to the house, the police were already there. There were no footprints in the snow, but it had been snowing heavily. The house was well shuttered and nothing appeared to have been disturbed. Ben chatted to the inspector for a while and told him he was staying the night. There was not much else anyone could do. Ingrid, now slightly embarrassed at her initial panic, made light of the whole situation and demanded Ben return home when it was light. He noticed she didn’t suggest he leave that night. He went around the whole property after the police left, checking it was secure. It was still snowing heavily.
He rang Nikolas to tell him his plan to stay the night with Ingrid. “You gonna be okay?” It occurred to him that without another car Nikolas was rather trapped. It was a little redundant therefore to ask him, but he was considerate like that.
“I’ll cope.” Nikolas rang off. That was abrupt, even for him.
Ben tapped the phone against his lips for a moment, debating phoning him back, but he wasn’t the one who’d been rude. He didn’t feel so bad about the car now.
He sat with Ingrid watching one of their favourite shows, and Ingrid chastised him for not practising his Danish enough with Aleksey. Ben didn’t point out they practised plenty, just not vocabulary he could demonstrate to her.
In the morning, Ingrid insisted Ben return home. She’d called her son in Copenhagen, and he was sending his oldest teenage son to stay with her for the Christmas holiday. Ben decided to leave Radulf at the house with her until the boy arrived. She assured him it wasn’t necessary; he said he didn’t want the dog anymore and if she didn’t take him he’d have him put down. She smiled faintly at his joke but then seemed pleased to agree Radulf should stay.
§ § §
When Ben returned home the following afternoon, he was surprised to find Nikolas chopping wood. Other than making the occasional cup of coffee, Nikolas did nothing useful around the house at all. He didn’t understand the concept of laundry, having used a service his whole adult life. He refused to cook, claiming it was women’s work. Housework of any kind was included in this dismissal. He occasionally liked to drive the car but was always surprised it ran out of fuel and furious if it did this when he was driving. Ben sometimes wondered what life in the Russian Special Forces was like, but clearly it wasn’t much like life in the British version. He’d been taught to iron at sixteen, and cleaning meant taking the faceplates off wall sockets and scrubbing the screw holes with his toothbrush. He’d slept on the floor in a sleeping bag for the first year of his army service so his bed remained inspection perfect. Living with Nikolas had always been something of a strain, therefore. Ben tried to remember that having been married to royalty, albeit minor royalty, Nikolas had expectations of his staff. What riled him slightly was Nikolas now appeared to consider him staff. To see Nikolas, therefore, stripped to the waist, chopping wood, with an open bottle of vodka beside him, was something of a revelation. To see he cut wood effortlessly and better thanhedid was extremely annoying. He put it down to Nikolas’s Scandinavian heritage and tried not to take it too personally.
Nikolas stopped when Ben climbed out of the car. He slammed the axe into the block, picking up his shirt and the vodka. “How is she?”
“I don’t think there was anyone, but I’ve left Radulf with her.”
“No burglar is safe. Did you leave his blankie with him?”
“He’s not gay, and, yes, I did leave his blanket. He doesn’t like to sleep without it.”
“So…” Nikolas caught him around the waist. “I’ve been neglected. I’m…restive…”
Ben kissed him slowly, easing his lips to Nikolas’s ear. “I think you’re drunk, which is a shame, because we’re going for a run.”
§ § §
Ben took pity on him and only did a five-mile jog through the forest tracks. It was totally flat, so it was hardly a run at all. Nikolas complained the whole way, finding any excuse to stop, checking his shoelaces, pointing out where the snow was too deep for safety, and generally making sure he didn’t need to break into a sweat or breathe deeply. Consequently, they were both freezing and shivering when they got back. Ben immediately stripped and eased himself into the hot tub. Nikolas took the time to fetch another bottle of vodka and two glasses before joining him. Ben wasn’t used to hot tubs, and the whole sitting outside in the snow thing still fascinated him. He watched the flakes dissolving in the bubbling water with total concentration until a foot landed between his outstretched thighs. Nikolas handed him a glass of vodka.
Ben frowned. “Haven’t you had enough?” Nikolas mumbled something. Ben raised his eyebrows. “Did you just call me a pussy?”
“We don’t have a word for pussy in Danish.” Nikolas was obviously confident Ben couldn’t contradict him on this, and while Ben was struggling to see if he could remember anyone teaching him this word, which was unlikely as his main language teachers had been an elderly primary school teacher and an almost equally old librarian, Nik added with a smirk, “I’ll have to make you drink. Perhaps it’s time for you to learn some Russian games, Benjamin. If I can name one thing you’ve done I haven’t, then you must take a drink.”
Ben pursed his lips. “I’ve not done anything you haven’t done a hundred times worse. Don’t be ridiculous.” He had the distinct impression Nikolas hadn’t just thought of this game, and that, in fact, it wasn’t actually a game at all. It flicked across his mind that maybe Nikolas had been more put out by his overnight absence than he’d let on—and hence the curt dismissal the previous night. Incredible as it seemed, Ben now realised that Nikolas believed he’d not gone to Ingrid’s at all. Studying Nikolas now, he was pretty sure there had been steady drinking all night and Nikolas had worked himself into believing he was being cheated on with a large-breasted woman. It was too ludicrous to dignify with an explanation. He was about to climb out of the tub and leave him to his drunken, Russian games when Nikolas murmured slyly, “So, you chicken out like typical British SAS.”
Ben sat back in the water. “Did you seriously just say that?”
