Chapter 13
GEORGE
Eight hours later, they trotted in to the courtyard of the inn where they would spend the night.
Exhausted to his very bones, George dismounted his horse, a sweet-tempered mare, and led her to the trough at the side of the courtyard to slake her thirst.
Theo was right behind him. He handed the reins of his mount to George. “Are you all right to wait with the horses while I find the innkeeper?”
“Of course,” George said, idly patting the mare’s flank as he watched Theo stride across the courtyard to the front door of the inn.
It was a warm, early summer evening, the sun beginning to soften and lower. The courtyard was steadily busy, with stable hands and patrons coming and going, horses being led in and out of stalls, coaches being loaded and unloaded.
After a few minutes, Theo returned. “The innkeeper is sending some hot water up so we can wash before we eat. Are you ready to go in?”
“More than,” George said. “Do we have, um—” He cleared his throat, embarrassed. “Do we have a bedchamber each?”
Theo looked amused. “We do, but they’re side by side, so…” He waggled his eyebrows. “If you get a little lonely in the night, you’re welcome to join me.”
George's cheeks heated with awkward embarrassment. “I don’t think—”
Theo chuckled, his expression both amused and apologetic. “I’m only teasing. Come on, let’s hand these horses off so we can go and get washed. Not that you look the least bit grubby. How on earth do you still look so bloody pristine after a whole day in the saddle?”
George glanced at Theo, who was, admittedly, far more mud-spattered and dishevelled than George.
“Isn't the better question how you ended up so muddy?” George asked, biting back a smile of pleasure when Theo laughed in response. He remembered that rich, generous laugh from their school days. Back then, whenever he’d got Theo to laugh, he’d felt an absurd sense of accomplishment.
It seemed nothing had changed.
Turning away to hide his smile, George gave his attention to removing his saddlebags while Theo strode off to find a stable hand to deal the horses.
* * *
Later that evening, after a plain but filling dinner, they relaxed in the small, private dining room the innkeeper had offered them.
“It’s nice in here,” George said, sipping the rather rough wine the maid had brought them. “But I’d’ve thought you’d prefer to eat in the main dining area.”
Theo glanced over at him. “I would’ve done if I’d been alone,” he said, “but I thought you’d prefer somewhere quieter. Was I wrong?”
“No,” George admitted, smiling. “You weren’t wrong. Am I so easy to read?”
“I remember how you were at school—you were always happier with just two or three people than in a crowd.”
George blinked, surprised that Theo had noticed that about him.
“That’s true,” he admitted, his voice a little husky. “It’s probably because I’m not wonderfully adept in social situations.”
Theo’s gaze sharpened. “Where do get that idea? You have very graceful manners—unlike me—and from what I’ve seen, other people seek out your company.”
George gave a dry little laugh. “And the fact that I’m the heir to a dukedom has nothing to do with that.”
“I’m sure it does for some people,” Theo admitted, “but I’d wager many others appreciate you for your kindness and good conversation.”
George’s throat closed at the unexpected compliment. Swallowing against the unwanted rise of emotion, he said, his tone slightly hoarse, “Will you tell me about your travels on the Continent?”
Theo sent him a wry smile. “Are you sure you won’t be bored?”
“Very sure,” George assured him. “I would love to hear about your adventures. I’ve barely set foot outside of England in all my life.”
“Have you wanted to?”
George thought about that. “Not actively,” he admitted, “but I like to think I’d go if the opportunity presented itself.
” Hearing his own words, he made a face.
“That doesn’t sound very assertive, does it?
But that's how I am. When we were young, it was always my younger sister and brother who came up with the ideas for our games. And then at school, as you know, I tended to follow Ollie.”
Theo shrugged, unconcerned. “We can’t all be leaders all the time.
And some people who love to lead are terrible at it.
” He chuckled. “When I visited the Grindelwald, I joined a climbing tour. The trip only took three or four days, but it covered quite a bit of ground. We were hiking up to a glacier, then to the summit of Mount Scheidegg before descending through a gorge. It was a very picturesque route, and popular too. Our guides were two local men. Quiet, stoic types, both very experienced climbers. There were a few of us in the group, some English, some German. Most everyone was fine, but there was this one Englishman—he was probably the least experienced of the whole group, truth be told—yet he was absolutely determined to take charge.” Theo laughed again at the memory.
“He was unbearable. The guides were very patient with him, which did absolutely no good at all. He kept questioning the route, and trying to take us off course, contradicting the guides’ advice, till we were all driven half-mad by him. ”
“What happened?” George asked. “Did he lead you all into danger?”
Theo snorted. “After a day and a half of his nonsense, I took him aside and told him that if he didn’t shut his mouth and start doing as he was told, I was going to tear the alpenstock from his pack and insert it up his rectum. Sideways.”
George gave a surprised shout of laughter. “What did he say?”
Theo laughed too. “After that, very little! He was as quiet as a mouse for the rest of the trip.”
George topped up both their glasses with port. “Tell me how you came to be in Grindelwald.”
“It’s quite a long story,” Theo said. “Are you sure you want to hear it? I have a tendency to bore on about my travels. I suspect it’s exceedingly dull. ”
“I’m very sure,” George said, settling back in his chair with his port.
“Very well. You asked for it.”
And so, for the rest of the evening, Theo told George about his travels on the Continent, starting in Paris where he’d enjoyed a brief period of debauchery, before heading for Geneva, then the Bern Oberland.
There, he’d found what he hadn’t even known he’d been looking for—a landscape of such astonishing, stunning, dangerous beauty that he could barely describe it.
After spending several months there, the harsh winter conditions had driven him south, first into Lombardy and then further down into the Papal States.
Then, in the spring, he’d ventured north again, travelling back up through Austria and Bavaria, before finally landing in the Netherlands where he’d booked his passage back to England.
“You must find England very dull now,” George said.
“Not at all,” Theo replied, “but I did have the time of my life.” He sounded wistful.
“You sound as though you want to go back.”
“I plan to,” Theo said. “Not to do the whole thing again, but I want to return to the Alps. Perhaps explore them on the French side, from Chamonix.”
“Do you have a hankering to conquer Mont Blanc?” George asked, a teasing smile hitching his mouth up on one side.
“I don’t know about conquering it,” Theo said, grinning. “Very few men have achieved that feat, but yes, it would be exciting to try, don’t you think?”
“Ask me again after we’ve done Snowdon,” George said, and Theo laughed.
“How long would you go for, if you went back?” George asked.
Theo smiled. “Until my money ran out.” He glanced at George then, his expression turning a little rueful.
“That probably sounds rather reckless.” He sighed.
“It was running out of money that drove me back to England the first time around. I used an inheritance my grandmother left me to pay for my travels. By the time I reached the Netherlands, it was almost all gone. But then I returned to England to learn that my uncle had passed away and left me Blackfriars.”
“That was lucky for you,” George said.
“Very,” Theo said. “It gave me an immediate income and a capital asset that I can sell to finance my next trip.” He sent George a crooked smile. “My mother always says I was born under a lucky star, and perhaps she’s right, because something does always seem to turn up.”
A sceptical little hum escaped George, and Theo looked up, amused. “Do I sense disapproval? You think me flippant?”
George shrugged, a little self-consciously. “Not flippant. I just—” He paused. “Do you realise how fortunate you are, inheriting not one but two bequests? Don’t you want to use that money to establish yourself in life?”
“What would you have me do?” Theo asked, leaning back in his chair and cocking his head to one side. “Why not enjoy the money while I’m young? We only get one life. I may as well make the most of it.”
“But what about when that money runs out too? Which it will, if you sell off the estate and use the proceeds to pay for more travels.”
Theo only shrugged. “Then I wait for something else to turn up, or find myself some employment. I’m not entirely useless, you know.”
Horrified, George said quickly, “I never meant to suggest that. I only—”
“I know, George,” Theo interrupted, leaning forward to set a hand on his knee. “You’d never say anything so mean-spirited.” Patting George’s knee, he leaned back again, though George could still feel the weight and warmth of his touch even after he drew his hand back.
“I realise many people would think me feckless for talking this way,” Theo went on. “And perhaps I am. But I think you have to live for today. After all, everything could change tomorrow.”
“And there’s the difference between us,” George said with a weak chuckle. “I’m always thinking of tomorrow and what changes it might bring.”
Theo hitched an unconcerned shoulder. “It’s your nature, and there’s no fighting that. It’s the reason you don't want to repeat what we shared in Redford’s, while I would be perfectly happy to do so.”
George felt his cheeks heat. “I’m not sure that’s the same thing.”
“Isn’t it?” Theo shrugged. “It strikes me as very similar. Why not enjoy whatever pleasures present themselves while you can—”
“I’ve nothing against pleasure,” George interrupted. “I just can't be so cavalier about it as you. I’m afraid I’d have regrets.”
“Exactly,” Theo said. “You’re choosing to forego pleasure now, to avoid potential pain later.” He gave one of his half-hitched smiles. “When you think about it, that’s not so very different from holding onto money instead of spending it.”
George blinked, taken aback by Theo’s logic. It occurred to him, then, how often he made decisions based on that simple, devastating calculus. Pleasure now, or pain later. Not even certain pain; the mere possibility of it was often enough to deter him from a particular course of action.
Just then, the clock on the mantel chimed the hour, and it was as though that single, ringing peal broke some spell between them.
Theo yawned, running a big hand over the back of his neck.
“God, I’m tired, and we need to make an early start tomorrow to put in as many miles as possible—it’s a fair way to the next inn. Are you ready to retire?”
“Yes, of course,” George said, reeling a little from the sudden change of subject.
“Come on, then,” Theo said, setting his glass down and getting to his feet.
George followed Theo out of the little dining room and up the inn’s rickety stairs. It was late now, and the guests were settling down for the night. Behind closed chamber doors came the rumble of voices, the creak of floorboards.
When they reached their own stretch of corridor, Theo went straight to his own chamber, mumbling a tired, “Good night, George,” as he opened the door and slipped inside.
For a moment, George just stood there, staring at Theo’s closed door.
In that moment, he realised that there was a part of him that had fully expected Theo to suggest that George join him in his chamber tonight.
And though he’d intended to refuse any such invitation, there was no denying the disappointment that now suffused him.
Shaking his head, he smiled ruefully to himself. How foolish.
He entered his own chamber then, and began to get ready for bed, washing his face in the cold water in the ewer and cleaning his teeth, before sliding between the rough sheets on the bed.
Closing his eyes, he remembered how Theo had looked at him earlier, his gaze heavy-lidded, his voice low and full of promise.
“Why not enjoy whatever pleasures present themselves while you can…”
Theo’s words continued to echo in his mind, nagging at him even as he blindly sought out the ultimate, furtive distraction, taking his cock in hand and beginning to stroke himself.
His climax, hard and brisk, came upon him in an unexpected rush, far sooner than he expected. And after, as he lay with his eyes closed, his chest heaving, and his warm spend cooling on his belly, Theo’s words still rang in his mind.