Something Wicked This Way Comes Page 18

  We went through Hawick, with its narrow grey streets and rushing, rocky river. Out the other side, the hills rose up again, gorse mixed with the heather now, and Niall steered us off the main road and into a little village of whitewashed cottages. He parked on the edge of the green, and we walked across it towards a big old Victorian hotel.

  “Been a while since I was here last,” he commented. “They’ve always been good, though.”

  “Am I underdressed?” I asked. It looked awfully old-fashioned.

  “No. Restaurant’s cool. They make more money from that than the rooms, from what I hear.”

  “That’s a little sad.”

  Niall shrugged. “Things change. If they’ve found a way to survive, good for them.”

  The restaurant was behind the hotel, opening onto a stepped terrace which ran down towards another tumbling river. Bright orange-and-yellow parasols shaded every table. It looked busy, a cheerful mixture of groups and couples. Inside, the barroom was hot, the tables deserted. A fan hummed on the bar, and the waitress there was leaning in close to it, her eyes closed. She jumped as we came in and smiled a little sheepishly as she asked, “Table for two? It’ll be five minutes wait if you want to sit outside, but you’re welcome to wait on the terrace if it’s too hot here.” She added with feeling, “I would, if I were you. At least there’s a nice bit of a breeze out there.”

  “Sounds grand,” Niall said.

  We ordered drinks and headed outside. It wasn’t as crowded out here as the tables below, but the promised breeze was fresh, and the view was lovely. I started to wander over to look down on the gardens, but Niall clearly knew the place well because he was heading for the far corner, where seats were set into the edge of the balustrade.

  Then he stopped.

  I wasn’t sure why for a moment. Then I saw the man staring back at us with shock and dismay. He looked familiar. I’d seen his photograph on Niall’s fridge earlier that afternoon.

  It seemed Niall knew about the place because he’d come here with his ex.

  Well, that was awkward.

  Niall seemed lost for words, his shoulders very stiff. The other man took a deep breath and rose to his feet. “Niall. Good to see you.”

  “Anton,” Niall said. Then, after a long moment, “Same.”

  “Eloquent as ever, I see.”

  Niall shrugged. I’d been amused until then, but this was more than awkward. I moved forward into Niall’s space and favoured Anton with my most polite and distant smile.

  He blinked at me, looking startled, and glanced back at where he had been sitting. The other man sitting there looked almost as uncomfortable as I felt.

  Anton recovered first, offering his hand. “Anton Szymanski.”

  “He’s Leon,” Niall said brusquely. My arm brushed his, and I felt him tense.

  I took a quick breath, annoyed he was speaking for me, then met Anton’s gaze. A similar irritation showed around his eyes, but it faded into something fonder and more exasperated. “Nice to meet you, Leon. Hopefully Niall’s lack of social graces hasn’t scared you off yet. Care to join us?”

  I looked at Niall quickly, not sure how he felt about that. He was the one to nod, though, and stride over to sit down on the long stone bench, stretching his legs out. Anton’s date, a slight, almost-pretty man in a shirt and tie, looked a bit intimidated. I suppose nobody is ever quite ready for six-foot-two’s worth of grumpy blacksmith crashing their date. I shot him a rueful smile, trying to reduce the tension, and introduced myself properly.

  He returned my smile a little tentatively, and said, “Simon. So, uh, I don’t think I’ve seen you around.”

  A tactful way to point out I wasn’t a familiar face on whatever made up the local gay dating scene. I shrugged and said, “I’m only here for a few weeks.”

  “Good lord, Niall,” Anton said. “A tourist?”

  Niall’s scowl deepened, and I was tempted to add a cross look of my own.

  Simon took a deep breath and ploughed on over the glaring contest, “So, how do you like the area?”

  “It’s very beautiful. Very atmospheric.”

  Niall snorted.

  I glared at him because he wasn’t helping and added, “Hopefully I’ll get to see a bit more of it. My organisation’s looking into the possibility of expanding up here, so I’m trying to get a sense of the area.”

  “Up here?” Anton said, sounding incredulous. “To Hawick?”

  “The Borders. To be honest, any rural location where we can pick up a place big and affordable to house a school.”

  “Well, the old hall by Niall might do, if you can persuade the old man to sell.” Anton sounded less hostile now.

  “He’s dead,” Niall said.

  That was a conversation stopper. I tried to kick Niall surreptitiously and kept talking, “Well, yes, that’s our first option, but it’s not looking viable. We like the area, though. Have you lived here long?”

  “All my life,” Simon said cheerfully. “Though I went up to Edinburgh for uni. Anton’s only been here a few years, though.” He swallowed, looking at Niall, who I assumed was the reason Anton was here.

  “And what do you do?” I asked in desperation.

  He worked for the council, it turned out, and Anton was a social worker, which would have been useful to know before Niall opened hostilities. I kept a line of light chatter going, feeling sorry for poor Simon.

  Partway through, over the top of Simon and I discussing the different approaches to education funding in England and Scotland, Anton said suddenly, “You look better.”

  Niall’s face softened a little. “Yeah. Getting there.”

  “I’m glad,” Anton said, and the bitter edge had faded from his voice. Simon and I both went quiet, watching them. I hadn’t seen any way they could work as a couple before, but it seemed obvious now in the cautious way they were looking at each other.

  My heart clenched a little, and beside me Simon looked down, fiddling with his watch. Was Niall recovering? Did that mean he wanted his old life—his old lover—back again?

  Why the hell should I care? I was leaving.

  Except I’d voiced the wish to find another house up here. How possible was that? Would Niall even welcome it if I stayed?

  “Leon,” Niall said, making me jump. He was giving me an odd look, but then he added, “Didn’t you hear? Our table’s ready.”

  I stood up, smiling at Anton and Simon. “Nice meeting you, guys.”

  Simon gave me a genuine, although slightly wry, smile. Anton’s nod was less convincing.

  Niall tucked his hand through my arm and steered me towards the steps, leaning in to ask quietly, “You okay?”

  “Yeah. I’m fine.”

  “You spaced out for a moment.”

  “Lost in thought—not a flashback.”

  He relaxed. “Good.”

  Our table was on the lower terrace, with views across the valley. The waiter left us with the menus, and I took a slow breath, trying to decide what to say. In the end, I settled on “So that was your fiancé?”

  “Ex-fiancé,” Niall muttered balefully and grimaced. “Must we? I don’t want to talk about him.”

  “Okay.”

  “I’m on excellent terms with my ex-wife. She doesn’t have any reason to hate me.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “I’m not actually that bad at this. There were circumstances. I even let him take the cat.”

  This was starting to strike me as funny, but I took pity on him. “Niall, I know. You’re fine. Keep blustering like this and I’ll tell the waiters it’s your birthday. I’m sure they can find some candles somewhere.”

  “And then you can go fuck yourself,” he returned amicably.

  I chuckled, and picked up the menu. “Recommend anything?”

  “The lamb’s good. Don’t get the haggis.”

  “Not a fan?”

  “I’ll take you to get good haggis someday. Won’t be here though.”

  He stopped,
looking startled, and I wondered if he’d had a moment like the one I’d had earlier. I didn’t know where this relationship was going, but it seemed inconceivable that it could end in a few short weeks.

  Maybe I could come up here every holiday. School ruled my life in term time, anyway, but for the first time, there was something appealing about the idea of leaving it all in my dust. Would he even be satisfied with such a paltry part-time love affair?

  I was getting ahead of myself. Tonight was about celebrating his birthday.

  LATER, WE stumbled out into the softening evening light, warm and flushed with laughter and a little wine. Neither of us had drunk heavily—I was planning to drive us back, and Niall had informed me flatly that he had overindulged last year, for most of the year, and had no desire to do so again.

  That had made my heart ache, and we had stopped at half a glass for me and two for him. It had put him in an expansive, affectionate mood, and he flung an easy arm across my shoulder and pulled me close as we made our way back to the van.

  Nobody seemed to be watching, but I wondered how he managed it out here. I’d already seen how little concept of privacy there was in the village. How did being out impact his day-to-day life? Or was he so gruff and tough that people didn’t care? What had it been like for Anton?

  “Do you know the way?” Niall demanded, leaning into the crook of my neck.

  “You’ve got satnav.”

  “Satnav’s the devil,” he declared and kissed me when I laughed. I returned the kiss happily, but pulled away when his hands began to burrow under my shirt.

  “Home first, birthday boy. In the van with you.”

  He went with a wordless grumble. When I climbed in the other side, he was eyeing me warmly, but all he said was, “Can you even drive something this big?”

  “Smaller than a minibus, and I drive those to matches all the time,” I said. “Do your seat belt up.”

  “I like how competent you are,” he said happily. “It’s cute. You’re cute.”

  “You’re a lightweight,” I told him but ruined my attempt at a stern tone by kissing his cheek. “Home we go, then. Tell me if I accidentally start heading for Edinburgh.”

  “Edinburgh’s shit in summer. Too many people. Fucking tourists.”

  I grinned but didn’t look at him. The road was alarming enough with my full attention on it. “Thought that was what you were doing tonight.”

  “Well, if you’re offering.” His voice had gone husky.

  “If you’re sober when we get home.”

  “I’m not far off now.” His tone shifted, going dreamy. “Nice, that. Only having enough that you know you could snap out of it. More… it makes you forget, but only until you sober up again.”

  My heart caught in my throat.

  “But this is nice,” he murmured. “Nice to have something to look forward to.”

  “Yeah?” I said softly, but he didn’t seem to hear me.

  I got us through Hawick and onto the even more alarming B road on the other side. Here the hills rose up again, a hint of brown amongst the green and purple even in high summer. Round stone sheepfolds and occasional farmhouses were the only signs of human habitation. The sun was just beginning to drop a little in the sky, and the low light washed the whole scene with gold, making the distant peaks shimmer against the blue expanse of the cloudless sky. It was miles before we saw another car, waiting for us patiently at the next passing point.

  It was lonely and splendid and rather lovely, but I was very glad not to be traversing it alone.

  “I’m going to kiss every inch of you,” Niall said thoughtfully.

  I jumped. “I thought you were asleep.”

  “No, just thinking.”

  I’d heard one or two faint snores from his thinking, but I refrained from mentioning them. Tipsy, relaxed Niall was a revelation, and I intended to enjoy the experience for as long as I could.

  “I was thinking,” he said, his voice slow enough that his accent made every syllable round and heavy, “that we could pull off the road awhile and go up onto the moor. And I could strip all clothes off you and start at your toes.”

  I blushed but tried not to let it show in my voice. “Interesting proposition.”

  “Aye, but then I remembered it was getting late and the midges will be out. At this time of night, the streaking’s nae worth the itching in the morning.”

  “That sounds alarmingly like the voice of experience. Someday you’re going to have to tell me all about your adventurous youth.”

  “Booze, nudity, regrets, same as everyone else’s.” He laughed at himself and added, patting my knee consolingly, “So you’ll just have to keep your clothes on until we get inside.”

  “Alas, how will I cope?”

  “It’s a hard life,” he said, “but I’ll keep mine on too, in solidarity.”

  “My hero.”

  “Damn right. Turn off here, or we’ll have to go through the village.”

  I hadn’t realised we’d come so far, but a glance at the clock showed we’d been on the road almost forty minutes already.

  And, yes, there ahead of us, suddenly clear enough to dampen my spirits, were the lines of the hills over the border, outlined by sunset as the dusk settled around us. Steadily we made our way around the hillside, turning our backs on Scotland to follow the road down into the valley, over the river, and into England again. Here, the shadows lay longer, hinting at the night that was yet to come.

  I parked the van outside the forge and sat for a moment, startled at how much the change of scenery had affected me. Niall came around to my side of the van and opened the door. “Staying there all night?”

  “No. Sorry.” I turned to climb out and was surprised—but not unpleasantly so—when his arms slid around me and he lifted me down. His mouth was warm on mine, and my vague worries dissolved under the press of his kiss.

  “Shall I throw you over my shoulder?” he asked against my throat, and I realised dizzily that my feet still hadn’t touched the ground. He was holding me up against the side of the van.

  “Show-off,” I said but sought his mouth again even as he set me down on the cobbles. He tugged me forward, and I went willingly, wrapping myself around him as our kiss deepened.

  “You like it,” he murmured, sounding very pleased with himself. He pulled away just enough to slam the van door behind me before sliding his hands under my T-shirt and pushing it up.

  “You know what your shoulders are like,” I said, finding the willpower to pull back. “And we’re outside.”

  He grinned against my mouth. Then he tugged the T-shirt right off, reeled me in for a kiss that left me gasping and, before I could get my guard up, got his arm below my knee and started to lift me.

  “Don’t you fucking dare. You’ll put your back out.”

  “Better get inside, then,” he said, turning me round to hold me up against the door, his mouth warm on my collarbone as I wrapped my legs around his waist. “Or I might have you right here.”

  “Niall!” I protested, laughing at the sheer ridiculousness of it. “I’m not spending the rest of your birthday in gaol for public indecency.”

  He kissed me again, and a shiver went through me. “It’s not public if folks mind their own business.”

  “You are out of your mind,” I told him, but I couldn’t help laughing, a little giddy.

  “But you’re still going to let me suck your cock, aye?”

  I shuddered, anticipation sparking through me, but managed “Only because I’m just as mad. Your shoulders have driven me over the edge.”

  “My shoulders, is it?” He rolled them, smirking, before nuzzling more kisses along my neck.

  I made myself say while my willpower held up, “Inside, lover. The midges, remember.”

  He sighed and slid his hand down to cup my arse, holding me close while he fumbled in his pocket for his keys.

  My head was spinning, and my heart pounding. I could feel his strength and power pressed agai
nst me, and I wanted it turned to a better purpose—wanted him to conquer me. “Going to ravish me?”

  “If you’d like.”

  “Very much.”

  “Good,” he growled, finally getting the door open, and he carried me into the house.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  HOURS LATER, the wind woke me, blustering around the windows. I came to myself slowly, taking in sound before sensation: the bang of the window shifting in its frame, Niall’s breathing heavy behind me, the wind heaving through the woods. Niall’s arm was over my waist, holding me close, and his breath against the back of my neck was warm and steady.

  It was wonderful in a dim, slightly unreal way. If you had told me at the start of the summer that I would soon be waking up in the arms of a good man, hundreds of miles from home, I would have laughed, but here I was.

  He stirred behind me. “What time is it?”

  “Early.” It was light, but only just, and I squinted at the clock beside the bed. “Five-ish.”

  “Go to sleep, Leon.” There was affection in his grumbling.

  “I’m just going to close the window. It woke me.”

  “Weather’s turning.” He released me, a little reluctantly, and I padded over to the window. Outside, thin grey clouds drifted in long curls across the sky, and everything looked muted. We could have been the only people in the world. I took in a deep breath, tasting the scent of pine on the air. Even Vainguard looked like it was sleeping, its usual malice dimmed by the soft light.

  “Leon.”

  The window had blown right open, and I had to lean out to catch the bar and pull it closed. As I did so, I caught a glimpse of colour by Vainguard. For a moment, I was convinced that I saw someone standing outside the tower, glaring across the field at me—the man in the red cap. Then I blinked, and he was gone, if he had ever been there at all. Shivering, I closed the window and stumbled back to bed.

  “Ah, you’re cold,” Niall muttered, but he closed his arms around me anyway. “Mmm. Good morning.”