The Highwayman Came Riding Page 8

  “I told you.”

  “And why should I believe a thief?”

  “Why shouldn’t you? Just because I steal doesn’t mean I’m a liar.”

  “The two traits often go hand in hand for successful thieves.”

  “I’ve never lied to you. Can you say the same?”

  “Oh my God, I don’t care,” Elias growled. “Now if you have no use for me, I must be going.”

  “I never said I had no use for you.”

  Elias stamped his foot.

  “You do that a lot,” Augustus observed. “It’s endearing.”

  “I do that when I’m frustrated, you whey-faced, beef-witted ape!”

  “Forgive me if I don’t take comments on my appearance seriously from you.”

  “I can hear it in your voice. You’re an ugly cad.”

  “You know, I’m actually very handsome.”

  “What the fuck do I care if you’re handsome?” Elias snapped.

  “You might not be able to enjoy it, but others definitely can.”

  “Bugger off.”

  “Takes two to polka.” Augustus dismounted and came to stand closer to him. “I’m glad your cat’s hunting today.”

  “Why? Are you going to beat me?”

  “Beat you? Why the hell would I beat you?”

  “You don’t want anything I have, and yet you’re talking with me and getting closer,” Elias said, taking a step back for every step Augustus took forward. “And I throttled you last time we spoke. You seem like a vengeful sod.”

  “I’m not vengeful.”

  “But you are a sod?”

  Augustus took another step closer, and Elias stepped back. “If we keep this up, you’ll be in the ditch in a second,” Augustus said.

  “Better in the ditch than anywhere near you.”

  “Do you mean that? Two days ago you were straddling me.”

  “So?”

  “I know you didn’t hate that.”

  Elias sniffed and tossed his head. “There’s no way of knowing that.”

  “Trust me, there is.” Augustus advanced, and Elias took another step back. He teetered on the edge of the road, and Augustus grabbed his elbow and pulled him forward. Elias’s heart fluttered. “I warned you.”

  “And I told you I prefer the ditch.”

  Augustus did not release his elbow. “Come with me.”

  “Where?”

  “May I lead you? It’s not far.”

  Elias sighed, his curiosity getting the better of him. What choice did he have, anyway? The highwayman had at least a pistol. He probably had some sort of blade, too, even if he had never drawn it around Elias. “If you must.”

  Augustus led him from the road at a comfortable pace. Elias was astounded to find he was an attentive guide, as though he had imagined what it must be like to be profoundly blind. “Mind the gap, here, about a foot wide,” Augustus warned when they stepped over the ditch, and then, “Slight incline,” as they ascended a knoll. Within a quarter of an hour, they were in the middle of the woods (“There’s a large root coming up in three steps”), surrounded by rustling late-August leaves and twittering birds.

  “Why are we in the middle of the woods?” Elias asked.

  “I needed to make sure no one would see us,” Augustus replied.

  “What, are you planning on murdering me?”

  “No.”

  “Then why did you need to hide me? The whole of Kitwick has already seen me naked, so I don’t understand what I have to conceal.”

  “I wanted to talk.” Augustus’s hand still rested on Elias’s elbow, which was nice. Elias disliked when he was in an unfamiliar setting and left to float in obscurity; he needed someone to ground him.

  “We always talk on the road.”

  “Well, I wanted to talk about other things.”

  The hairs on the back of Elias’s neck stood on end and it had nothing to do with the gentle breeze gliding between the trees. “Like what?”

  “I can’t keep holding you up like this.”

  “Damn right you can’t. It’s uncivil, and I have no money for new clothes now that you got me sacked.”

  “No, I mean—”

  “Yes, you mean,” Elias interrupted.

  “Well, yes. You’re right,” Augustus admitted, sounding bashful. “It’s unfair to you.”

  “Yes. And?”

  “And?”

  “What else would you like to say about stealing my wardrobe, causing me a great deal of pain, costing me my job, and humiliating me in front of my entire hometown?”

  “Sorry.”

  “Good.”

  “What, you don’t forgive me?”

  “All you did was say sorry. You’ve done nothing to warrant forgiveness.”

  Augustus gave a low gurgle of frustration.

  “I never apologize.”

  “I’m so touched you decided your crimes against me were abhorrent enough to—”

  “Shut up a minute. I don’t think you understand.”

  Elias cleared his throat. He disliked being interrupted. “Understand what?”

  “You.” Augustus’s voice was tight. “I feel differently about you.”

  “Compared to when?”

  “Fuck, you git. Listen. I feel differently about you compared to everyone else.”

  “So?”

  “So! Eli.” Augustus abandoned common courtesy and seized Elias by the upper arms. Elias gave a snort of disapproval, which Augustus ignored. “You fucking bastard, do you even know what it did to me to rob you so many times?”

  “To you? Do you know what it did to me? I lost my job! Not to mention three hats and coats, two boots—”

  “That’s beside the point.”

  “Give them back, then, if you care so much!”

  “I sold them. They weren’t my style, but they earned me a pretty penny on Fleet Street.”

  Elias scoffed and opened his mouth to retort further, but Augustus cut him off. He still clutched his arms.

  “When I robbed you that first time, I swear to God, Eli, I died a little. You walked home naked, not even trying to cover yourself, and all I could think was, this poor blind sod doesn’t know what everyone else can see.”

  “I knew I was naked, thank you. I’m blind, not simple.”

  “Yes, but you don’t know what everyone else sees when they look at you.”

  “A naked blind man, robbed yet again by some dastardly highwayman, I should expect.”

  “No,” Augustus said, and his tone was softer than Elias had ever heard it. “You really have no idea, do you?”

  Elias could sense Augustus’s closeness, though he had released him. He felt warmth rising in his neck and face.

  “You’re really good-looking,” Augustus said. “Insanely beautiful. I can’t even understand it. It’s why I kept stealing your clothes.”

  “Just to see me naked?” Elias’s heart was bounding in his throat, and his mouth was dry.

  “No! Well, maybe. A little. But it gave me an excuse to talk to you too.”

  “Yelling ‘Stand and deliver!’ at me from your horse is hardly talking to me. And you could have just asked me about the weather. Like a normal human being.”

  “Weather’s boring. Your ass isn’t. It’s fine.”

  Elias was scandalized. “You’re so forward!”

  “Do you mean to say it doesn’t bother you?” Augustus asked eagerly.

  “What?”

  “The idea of a man liking your ass?”

  Elias realized too late his oversight. “Er.”

  “I knew it. You little bugger. I knew it.”

  “Fuck off, you’re the one who likes it!”

  Augustus chuckled. “Yes. It’s rather shapely.”

  Neither of them said anything for a long moment.

  “Er, Eli,” Augustus said. His voice was soft again, and it made Elias inexplicably anxious.

  “What?” Elias snapped.

  “May I kiss you? I really want t
o.”

  Elias stood straight. “What?” There was not enough air for him in the entire forest.

  “I want to kiss you,” Augustus repeated, more self-assured this time. “On the mouth. If you weren’t blind, I’d just do it, but I know you don’t like being touched without warning. And I don’t want you to bite my face off.”

  So he had noticed, had he?

  Elias gathered his courage. “Fine.”

  “Fine? That’s all you—”

  “Just kiss me already, you twat.”

  Waiting for it was torture. Elias half expected Augustus to laugh in his face instead of kiss him. But from the way Elias’s breaths returned to him, now joined by a faster tide, he could tell Augustus was leaning closer…closer… Elias reached out, felt around until he had hold of Augustus’s ears, and pulled their faces together.

  It was clear neither of them knew how to kiss. Elias had only the faintest of ideas from what Bess had told him and from one or two pecks from the village girls, but Augustus seemed to have less knowledge. It did not matter. Elias loved it anyway. They pressed their lips together, Elias clinging to Augustus’s ears, Augustus resting his hands on Elias’s wrists. After a few seconds, they broke apart.

  “Wow,” Elias murmured.

  “What, are you finally speechless?”

  Elias kissed him again.

  Chapter Twelve

  Elias walked home on a cloud of conflict. He surmised he was supposed to be faithful to Mr. Sweeton, especially since he had been vocal about his opposition to Mr. Sweeton’s dalliances with Kenneth Davies, but now he had gone and kissed the highwayman. Augustus. His name was Augustus. And Elias might never hear from Augustus again.

  He decided to visit Mr. Sweeton on his next trip to Mitton.

  It took him an age to find the barrack since all he knew of Mitton was the route from the post road to the postmaster’s. Lord Nelson was no help for destinations off their usual route. Elias asked the postmaster for directions, and the postmaster had given them, but Elias wandered the streets for the better part of an hour before the postmaster closed shop, took Elias’s elbow, and led him to the barrack himself.

  “Here you are,” he said, depositing Elias at the front door. “It’s six steps up, and then there are two very large doors. There’s usually someone just inside at a desk where you can ask for further directions.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Skeffington.”

  “Not at all, Mr. Burgess. Good day.”

  “Wait here,” Elias said to Lord Nelson. He climbed the steps, holding tight to the wooden railing. With some difficulty, he found a doorknob and heaved the door open, then entered the vestibule. He could hear someone scratching with a quill.

  “Good day,” Elias said once the door had swung shut behind him on squealing hinges.

  “Good day,” a man replied, sounding annoyed. He had a gravelly voice and a wet cough. “Mr. Anthony Keys at your service.”

  “I’m here to visit Mr. Sweeton,” Elias said.

  “Why’s it always the pretty ones?” Mr. Keys muttered.

  “Pardon?”

  “He’s round back in his office, but I wouldn’t visit him just now if I were you.”

  “Why not?”

  “Why not, the lad asks,” Mr. Keys murmured to himself. “Because,” he said, louder, “I don’t think he’s expecting guests at present.”

  “Oh no, he’s expecting me,” Elias replied. Maybe not now, specifically, but Elias had an open invitation.

  There was a long silence. “Think he’s double-booked himself,” Mr. Keys muttered. “But as you like. I don’t know what you lot see in him. Round back, third door on your left. Enter at your own risk.”

  “I’m blind, sir, and I haven’t been to his office before. Would you mind escorting me?”

  “You want me to—no! Feel your way if you have to, I’m not going with you. Fucking blind fucker.”

  Elias bit his tongue to keep from making some acerbic comment about Mr. Keys’s lack of linguistic creativity and took a step forward. He walked straight into something hard, heavy, and about waist height.

  “Watch it, that’s my desk! You’ve upset my ink bottle, you dunce!”

  “I told you, I can’t see.”

  “Fuck, fine, I’ll walk the lady to her room,” Mr. Keys said, grabbing Elias’s wrist, and yanking him forward. Elias let Mr. Keys pull him in a series of directions as he tried to remember the order of things. Two strides right, ten paces forward, two short steps right again, a left… He was promptly lost.

  “Here’s his office. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  Mr. Keys left, and Elias reached out, touching solid wood. He felt until he found a cold doorknob and knew he was in front of a door. Whether Mr. Keys was tricking him with someone else’s office, Elias would not know until he made a move. He knocked, waited, and, receiving no answer, twisted the doorknob, and opened the door.

  The sounds that met his ears were like nothing he had ever heard. There was deep human breathing, faster than normal, combined with low, urgent grunts and the regular creaking of furniture. There seemed to be two distinct breathers, one faster and harder than the other. The room smelled of sweat and something heavy, making Elias’s breath catch in his throat. What was that? The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, and he felt a pricking in his trousers. He heard a familiar voice.

  “Mr. Burgess?”

  “Mr. Sweeton?”

  “Mr. Burgess, what—” Mr. Sweeton was panting and sounded flustered. “What’re you doing here?”

  “You invited me to stop by whenever I wanted, so I’ve come to visit. Am I interrupting something?”

  “I—no, not at all. I was just in a meeting, as of course you cannot see, but it was almost over anyway. Mr. Kingsley was just leaving.”

  “I can wait out in the corridor until you’re done,” Elias offered.

  “No, that’s not necessary! As I said, Mr. Kingsley was just leaving. Right, Mr. Kingsley?”

  “Er, yes, sir, that’s right.” There was a vigorous rustling, and then rapid footsteps toward Elias.

  “Sorry, sir, I just need to get around,” the fast breather said. He sounded sheepish.

  “Oh.” Elias stepped to his right, bumping into something. He heard a smash. “Fuck,” he muttered as Mr. Kingsley dashed past him.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Mr. Sweeton said, striding across the room and shutting the door. There was a rustling and delicate tinkling at Elias’s feet, and Elias supposed Mr. Sweeton must be collecting the broken pieces of the latest victim of his clumsiness. Elias knew better than to walk around once he had broken something, so he stayed where he was by the door.

  “What was that?”

  “A vase, but it was nothing special.” There was a thump as Mr. Sweeton put the shards on the table Elias had bumped. “How are you?” He touched Elias’s elbow.

  “Well, thank you. Are you sure I wasn’t interrupting?”

  “No, it’s fine. Honest. I’d much rather be with you than meeting with Mr. Kingsley.” Mr. Sweeton drew Elias closer to him. “God, I missed you. You’re prettier than I remember.” This was the most forward Mr. Sweeton had ever been. Normally, he spent at least ten minutes on formalities.

  Elias squirmed, but Mr. Sweeton did not let him go.

  “May I kiss you?” Mr. Sweeton asked.

  “Kiss me? We’ve hardly spoken.”

  “I’ll go mad if I don’t.”

  Elias sighed. “I suppose.” He turned his cheek to Mr. Sweeton, but was taken aback when Mr. Sweeton twisted his face forward and kissed him on the mouth. He gasped in surprise. Mr. Sweeton’s hands came to rest on Elias’s waist as he pressed their chests together and pushed Elias’s back against the door. Elias had been kissed by the girls of Kitwick as a child—as a dare, more often than not, they used to sneak up on him—and he had kissed Augustus, twice, but this was the first time a man had kissed him in this way: warm, wet, forceful, a full-body experience. He felt weak at the k
nees, and he had to grab hold of Mr. Sweeton’s upper arms lest he slide down the door to the floor. When Mr. Sweeton pulled their hips together and bit Elias’s lower lip (there was something bulky and hard pressing into Elias’s lower abdomen in an uncomfortable way), Elias slipped a hand between their mouths and turned his face away. “What’re you doing?” he demanded.

  “Don’t stop.” Mr. Sweeton turned Elias’s face forward again, but Elias pushed him away, hips and all.

  “No, don’t.”

  Mr. Sweeton took a step back, panting. Elias was shaking and he did not know why.

  “God, you’re really perfect, aren’t you?” Mr. Sweeton asked.

  “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  “Have you never even kissed anyone before?”

  “Ugh, why does it matter?” Elias had thought at first about confessing to Mr. Sweeton what had happened with Augustus, but now he perished the thought.

  Mr. Sweeton touched his jaw, and Elias started. As the door was behind him, he had nowhere to go, so he stayed still as Mr. Sweeton crept closer.

  “Christ, your lips.” Mr. Sweeton traced them with a finger. “I used to think it was an act, but I was a fool. You’re untouched.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  “You say that because you don’t even know what I mean.”

  “I’m not stupid, you know. Bess has told me things.” And I have done some learning on my own with a certain highwayman, Elias thought. You do not even think that is possible, but I have.

  “What’s she told you?” There was amusement in Mr. Sweeton’s voice. Was he making fun of Elias?

  “I know what kissing is,” Elias said. “Even if I haven’t done it much.”

  “Yes, and?”

  “And? What else is there? Sodomy?”

  “But do you know what that is?”

  Elias bit his lip. Mr. Sweeton had him there.

  “Fuck,” Mr. Sweeton swore. It was the first time Elias had heard him utter an obscenity. He could feel his breath on his neck, and this made Elias’s stomach plummet to the depths of his toes. “When you bite your lip like that…”

  Elias realized only then how his breath was coming rapid and hard. It felt like he had just run very fast. A rare thing for him to do, given the inherent dangers.

  “You poor, sweet thing,” Mr. Sweeton purred.