‘Obviously. I got that.’
‘Do you think Ben did?’
Aleksey gave her an askance look and she sighed. ‘Well, maybe he’ll think it over later and see what I was trying to say.’
‘So?’
‘The bear, Nikki. The Steiff bear. It was the present I didn’t want to hand over to Nanny One. When I wasfour. And now I come to visit you on this island, and it’s here again. On a bunk, in a lighthouse. I tell Ben this story I have not thought about in decades, because you said just keep talking at him and he’ll come round, and then, almost as if that telling conjured it from the bloody ether, there it was—in that slightly creepy, abandoned place. Do you find this astonishing, or is it just me?’
‘I don’t find it strange at all. They made hundreds of such bears. I probably had one myself. Ben may have too. Don’t all children have teddy bears?’
‘Oh, yes, I expect so. Only, you see, here’s the thing—I made the green scarf it’s wearing. It was the first thing I ever knitted. Possibly the last too—once I got hold of a shotgun, knitting rather lost its appeal. I made those tiny pompoms with two pieces of card and scraps of cream and black wool… Those are the colours of the Devon flag, of course: green, black and cream. He, the baby, was Duke ofCornwall, and I wanted to be contrary even then. That’s the same bear, and now here it is. You tell me what it all means.’
Aleksey was staring at her, and all he could think to say was, ‘Don’t tell Ben.’
She produced her sunglasses from her pocket. ‘Obviously not.’
They heard him returning, and she held up the missing item and exclaimed cheerily, ‘My mistake! Sorry, darling.’
Ben didn’t seem too put out either way. Aleksey could not recall once in their fifteen years together Ben ever not being glad of the opportunity to burn off a bit of excess energy. But Ben wasn’t entirely stupid, obviously. He glanced between them, and although Phillipa would probably not be able to tell, Aleksey could see that he was aware he’d been deliberately distracted for some reason.
Nevertheless, he held out his hand politely and said, ‘Thanks for Molly’s present. That was really kind of you. And the tea.’ She shook, but before he let go, he added, much to Aleksey’s complete astonishment, ‘If you ever need a bolt hole, you are always welcome here. If you need to get away for a while.’
Her eyebrows rose, whether in genuine gratitude, or amusement at the implication that she was somehow imprisoned (which possibly wasn’t too far from the truth), or consequently needed to escape (probably too late), Aleksey couldn’t tell, but she suddenly hugged Ben as she used to do in very different times when he was just a young employee of her austere, enigmatic husband. ‘Thank you, darling. That’s very kind of you. I might just take you up on that offer. I was just telling Nikki that ambition is not always what it’s cracked up to be, is it? Hey ho. You make your own bed and you lie in it, as mummy used to say. Rather ironically, I suppose, as I don’t recall her ever making her own bed in her entire life.’
The boat arrived. Aleksey handed her down. She propped herself regally in the bow and waved as she was being rowed back to the fishing boat.
Ben toed the dock for a moment. Aleksey thrust his hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched. He was exhausted, and didn’t want to spend the whole evening arguing.
Ben shook his head. ‘You are so fuckingly annoying sometimes.’ Before Aleksey could wearily respond, Ben added, with an elbow to his ribs, ‘But always bloody right.’
* * *
Chapter Five
Was there anything better than make-up sex? Aleksey didn’t think so. It was amazing how quickly exhaustion could vanish, too. They barely made it to the privacy of the woods.
Ben had admitted he was wrong.
Ben had acknowledgedhewas right.
Both these events were pretty rare these days. In fact, it seemed to him that he spent his entire time being mocked and derided by everyone in the family, and he let it go, because he usually deserved it and it amused him. But no, just for this one moment snatched out of time, they were back to the way they’d once been, to the unequal relationship they’d suffered—the years of silences and obedience, resentment and pain.
The days when he was in complete control of everything.
It was exhilarating and Ben let it happen.
He shoved Ben against the broad, rough bark of a tree, face first, wrists pinned above his head. He bit Ben’s neck possessively, eliciting a groan of approval. Still restraining him, he put a hand around and loosed the button on Ben’s shorts. Ben sucked in and they fell off his narrow waist.
Aleksey tried to stifle a laugh, which would have ruined the mood. Ben was commando—unthinkable for tea with the future queen, but perfect for his needs.
He tucked his spare hand between Ben’s cheeks, massaging him, stretching him as he kissed into his hair and made bite marks over his darkly tanned summer skin. Ben spread his legs and pushed back onto his fingers and with one released hand deftly undid Aleksey’s jeans. His fingertips connected with Aleksey’s cock; a bolt of desire and immediate need jumped between them, and Aleksey fed himself in.
They both held still for a moment, panting. He released Ben’s wrist; Ben spread-eagled himself on the trunk, his nails scratching little flakes of bark as he dug them in. Aleksey braced himself against Ben’s neck and then he rammed in and did it again, forcing a grunt of surprise, but Ben pushed back, kicking off his shorts entirely so he could spread his legs wider.
They had reverted. Aleksey sensed it with every cell in his body. This was a snatched moment in the woods of Barton Combe. This was their past hauntingly present once more: passion explored through silence, a mutual need fought for with antipathy, dominance demanded through submission. He felt his climax swelling, pressed harder, forcing Ben’s cock against the solid trunk, and then came with a bucking release of hot spasms which slicked back down and warmed him as Ben shivered his own release from friction.
Aleksey sank against Ben’s back, panting, his heart pounding and put one hand under to Ben’s chest, double heartbeats now. Ben turned around slowly and slipped his arms down around Aleksey’s waist, pulling them together, kissing him, as if unwilling to let this missed step go. Aleksey smiled against Ben’s lips as he returned each bite, each taste. Kissing was nothing like Barton, and he suspected it was deliberate on Ben’s part. Did Ben live with the constant fear they would return to the relationship of strangers?
