Chapter 58
King’s Head
“Which king, I wonder?” Cam asked as she snuggled against Graham’s side.
Graham, still panting like a bellows, marveled she could even speak. “Which king? What king?”
“I was thinking about how there had to be a king who spent some time here, maybe camped out right on this spot in olden times or hid from bandits in the bushes and that’s why your house got its name—King’s Head.”
“Huh.”
Cam laughed, came up on her elbow, and kissed his throat, laid her cheek against his heart. She whispered against his warm flesh, “We will ask Blakeney; if anyone knows, he will. Do you think it’s possible to expire from too much lovemaking?”
“No. Absolutely not.”
She nuzzled his neck. “That is very good to hear. Do you know I heard your sister laugh when I passed their closed bedroom door? I know Donner was inside. Do you think—?”
“That’s nice.”
Cam leaned over and picked up her glasses, slid them up her nose, blinked down at him. “There, I can see your splendid self quite clearly now. Do you know what I want to do? I want to kiss every single inch of you.”
His heart stuttered; he licked his lips. “Do you really mean every single inch?”
“Just a moment,” and Cam shoved the covers down to his feet. “Oh yes, particularly your lovely hard belly.” He felt her fingers splay over him and nearly expired.
“I love you, Graham. I love you all the way to my own toes, even the one that’s a bit crooked from when I smashed it against a rock in the park when I was seven.”
His lovely hard belly? He felt warmth all the way to his own toes. He looked up into her eyes, saw endless caring meant for only him. He said, “I’ve kissed that toe, admired the slight bend, makes it more interesting than your other perfect toes.”
“Ha, so you’re back to being yourself, that is, you’re ready to seduce me again to the wicked side. Yes, with my glasses firmly in place I can now even see every lustful thought coursing through your man’s brain.”
“I hope those lustful thoughts are in great detail.” He pushed her onto her back and came over her.
He stroked his fingers through her tousled hair, thick lovely stuff, smoothed it over the pillow.
He pulled a thick, waving curl to his face and rubbed it over his cheek.
“You delight me, Cam. The first time I saw you I wondered, Who is this tall, mouthy girl with no chaperone who walked right up to me, a stranger, and treated me to a wonderful monologue?” He paused, kissed the tip of her nose.
Cam said, “When I got a good look at you and saw your amazing wicked eyes, I swear the cobblestones shifted beneath my slippers. Did you mind my glasses?”
“No. A mouthy girl needs to wear glasses to add to her mystery.”
“Averil and Eliza never wanted me to wear them, told me no gentleman would even want to get near me. They’d believe I read books, a horror.”
He looked shocked. “Really? You can read?”
She bit his neck.
“I saved you from all those unworthy gentlemen. I believe you must owe me your gratitude for the rest of our years on this earth.”
She grew thoughtful. “Do you think before we expire, our children and grandchildren and great grandchildren weeping on their knees beside our bed, we will see trains crisscross the world?”
She’d pointed him to his hobby horse and he jumped right on, passion and promise lighting his eyes. “Oh yes. And there’ll be so much more, we will never stop moving forward, making our lives better, making the world larger. I believe nothing is impossible.”
“It’s hard to imagine what could be invented beyond our modern world, well, trains going everywhere is a fine idea and very useful.
But what else could we possibly want? We even have a water closet and our own shower room.
Even Mrs. Mince was telling me about the incredible efficiency of her new potbelly stove.
Oh yes, I meant to ask you. At dinner your father told a story about how you and Simon were daring each other to stick a single leg into the Green Stream, each yelling the other was a coward—and then your father intervened, called you both nod-cocks and ordered you back to your tutor.
You looked suddenly odd, Graham, then you blinked and shook your head. Did you remember something?”
He stilled, said slowly, “No, not really. Maybe the memory of Simon is in the back of my brain, nothing solid.”
She searched his face. “Then he spoke of the two of you playing in the abbey ruins, climbing up on an ancient worm-eaten beam still holding up walls in a monk’s cell. He said he yelled at the two of you, told me Simon was daring you to walk across the beam. How old were you, Graham?”
“I have no idea. But I suppose it makes sense I was about twelve, maybe thirteen, Simon a year younger. Wait, there’s something teasing me, I can hear it, Simon is angry at me, calling me a coward, maybe—Why couldn’t I have seen him laughing with me, shooting a bow and arrow, crowing when he hit the bull’s-eye? But no, it was anger I heard.”
“Maybe, just maybe, it’s the strong emotion you felt that gave you the brief memory, at least the sound of a memory.”
He hadn’t thought of that. “I don’t know.”
She kissed his mouth. “Don’t worry about it. It’s a beginning, Graham. I promise you there will be more. It won’t be long now before your childhood is returned to you. Did Simon resemble you?”
“From the painting of him as a young boy, I think he had more the look of our mother. No, not her eyes, but her light hair, maybe the shape of her face. I’ll show it to you tomorrow.”
“And you look more like your father except for your mother’s wicked eyes. She was incredibly beautiful, Graham. How old were you when she died?”
“I don’t know. We will ask my father.” He added slowly, “If my memory does come back, will I remember who took Simon and me, who tried to kill me?” He swallowed. “And who obviously killed Simon and our poor tutor?”
She felt fear scald her throat, but she forced herself to say matter-of-factly, “The fact is whoever was responsible for taking you and your brother and tutor eleven years ago must still be here or close by, watching, waiting. He followed us to the Isle of Wight. He’s afraid you will remember, Graham, and that’s why he pushed the statue from the hotel roof on us.
“You know he followed us here. He’s waiting, I know it, you know it. Your father hasn’t said anything to me, but I know he is terrified for you. We will speak to him again, to everyone, to be on guard.”
“Everyone is on guard, Cam. There’s always someone close to me.”