* * *
Fortunately, they’d both remembered another of Ben’s important new Molly-here rules: they both put on their slightly staid, yet also weirdly erotic pyjamas before they’d fallen exhausted into bed.
Ben still wore his Rupert Bear yellow tartan ones, but Aleksey, refusing utterly to fall quite that far into his dotage, opted for some shorts and a t-shirt.
But at least they were both dressed when Aleksey felt something worming up between them in the bed. Thinking it was Radulf, which was a frequent morning occurrence, he patted it, turned over and went back to sleep. It was only when an exploratory hand roaming around his face made him jerk awake did he realise it was Molly.
This was the first time she’d done this. She wasn’t allowed into their room, except by strict invitation, and she wasn’t allowed to come down the walkway of the pool without an adult being awake somewhere in the house.
But he remembered just in time that it was her birthday and so chatted to her about that and the party for a while in Russian instead of mentioning any of the rules she’d broken.
Ben could clearly hear them, but was apparently pretending to be asleep. The covers, he’d noticed, had gradually crept up over the tousled dark hair, and he was trying to lie concealed. Aleksey couldn’t blame him for this. They’d been asleep approximately three hours. It was four o’clock in the morning.
Feeling magnanimous towards his other half, and other emotions he’d spent a considerable while expressing before they’d fallen asleep, he scooped Molly up and took her into the TV room where he let her once more choose a film. He lit the fire, brought in some snacks, and she sat silently and happily watching and munching until it got light. Or he assumed she did. She was still there when he woke up alongside her. She’d changed the DVD though, and was now well into Season One ofMan vs Wild. The next time he woke it was to find a slightly apologetic Ben offering him a stack of pancakes drenched in maple syrup with a steaming mug of tea.
The baby tyrant, all of four years of age now, was curled up fast asleep alongside him.
Ben squeezed in between them and shared the pancakes with him, which would have almost been romantic except that the sharing actually meant Ben ate them all before he got to carefully dissect one to check it was cooked properly. He should have learnt his lesson by now, he supposed. He relaxed back and watched Ben eat, still one of his favourite pastimes, and then ruffled his hair. Ben smirked, and said quietly so as not to wake their companion, ‘You’re anxious—about the presents.’
‘Well, I am wondering where they are, yes.’
‘There’s only one from us, and Tim’s bringing it over after breakfast.’
‘Huh. The moron made a good king. I think he’d make—’
‘A good father?’
Aleksey snorted. ‘That wasnotwhat I was going to say.’ He was offered the last bite, and took it gratefully, trying not to watch Ben licking the plate. ‘I wonder where he got the sword. It looked real.’
‘It was Harry’s naval one.’
Aleksey jerked his head back. ‘Really?’
‘Yeah, Squeezy’s got all his stuff, apparently. You know, the good stuff you’d keep if your dad died—his hat, his sword, his medals. He was going to have the sword for Dartmouth, but then…’
‘Yes. Everything changed for him.’
‘I guess he can give it all back now.’
‘Yes, Harry should have it.’
Ben laughed. ‘You just want that sword on Light Island.’
‘I have my own.’
‘What?’ Ben turned to him.
Aleksey shrugged. ‘Somewhere or other. It was sent to me when I died, along with my medals—which you have seen.’
‘You have a sword and you never told me?’
The joke was too obvious to make, but Ben got it unspoken and slid his hands into the top of the shorts. Aleksey removed it with a raised eyebrow towards their entirely unconscious little companion.
Ben shook himself lightly. ‘Go dress. I’ll get her up. They’ll be here soon.’
* * *
Chapter Twenty-Eight
