The Highwayman Came Riding Page 9

  “Neither poor nor sweet.”

  “Shh,” Mr. Sweeton said. “Just enjoy this.” And he kissed Elias again, softer this time, as though to make up for the hardness of the first kiss. Elias trembled as Mr. Sweeton took him in his arms and held him close, the swell of his strong chest pressing into him, that hard bundle in his trousers against him anew. Was that his…? No, it could not be. It must be part of his uniform.

  “I know you think I’m boring,” Mr. Sweeton whispered into Elias’s ear. “And maybe I’m not the best at talking. But I’m a good lover, I promise you.”

  “Are you asking me if…”

  “No, I could not…in my office…your first time…never. It’s too coarse. We would do it somewhere else.”

  “I didn’t even say yes.” Elias would not know to what he agreed if he did.

  “If you did, I would take you somewhere else.”

  “I’m not saying yes. I’ve only just kissed you on the lips for the first time today. I think I should stop there.”

  Mr. Sweeton gave a strange moan and kissed Elias under the ear.

  “Fuck,” Elias murmured. It was an involuntary verbalization.

  “God, when you say such words.” Mr. Sweeton held him tighter.

  “Every time?”

  “Every time.”

  “I swear a lot.”

  “Yes, you do. You’ve been driving me mad for months. You and your curls and your filthy mouth and your tight little ass.”

  “What’re you staring at my ass for?” Why were men always staring at his ass?

  Mr. Sweeton inhaled sharply. “You don’t even know.” He kissed Elias’s neck.

  Elias felt overwhelmed. He pushed Mr. Sweeton away again. “We should really stop,” he said, breathless. “I need to think about things.”

  “Do you doubt what I feel for you?”

  That was not it. Elias knew with absolute certainty that Mr. Sweeton wanted him in the worst way. But he did not know how he felt about Mr. Sweeton, and that was most important. Besides, he had Augustus to think about now too. He turned around and pressed his forehead into the door so Mr. Sweeton would stop kissing him. He heard a soft gasp.

  “I just need to think, that’s all,” Elias said. He was nervous, so it did not occur to him to be sarcastic. “I know you desire me.”

  “I adore you, Mr. Burgess.”

  “All right, you adore me… But I’m still learning. I need to try to understand how I feel about you.”

  “You desire me, I know you do. I could feel you, I could feel what kissing me made you do.”

  Elias was mortified. He had noticed? He had felt him? Down there?

  “If that’s what that was—desire—I want a few days, at least, to myself, to reflect.”

  The door creaked as Mr. Sweeton put his hands on either side of Elias’s shoulders. His chest pressed into Elias’s back, but he kept their hips apart as he breathed onto Elias’s neck. Elias trembled.

  “When you’re ready, whenever it is, whether it’s morning, noon, or night, I will be here, and I will be waiting.”

  “Don’t you have other things to do?”

  “For you, I’d postpone them all.”

  “Right. Thanks.” Elias tried to think about anything but the aching between his legs and failed.

  “Christ, you’re so timid now.”

  “Fuck you.”

  Mr. Sweeton bit Elias’s neck above his cravat. Elias gave a low hiss of pain, and Mr. Sweeton bit harder.

  “Argh—fuck!”

  “What’d I tell you, boy?” Mr. Sweeton demanded, and bit him again. Elias all but whimpered, his trembling reaching the greatest frequency yet. “What’d I tell you it does to me when you talk like that? You’re playing with fire now.”

  “Get off,” Elias said, turning around and pushing Mr. Sweeton away once again. “I told you, I need to think. And I can’t think with you biting my neck like that.” He rubbed the tender skin on the side of his neck, his heart pounding. That had hurt, but it had been a good hurt. How did that make sense?

  “Fine. I understand. That’s fine. But I can’t just stand here like this, with you there, your lips swollen and your neck bruised and your… I need to take care of it, do you understand?”

  No, Elias did not understand, but he pretended he did. “Yes.”

  “It’ll only be a minute.”

  What happened next made gooseflesh erupt all over Elias’s body, and he did not know why. Mr. Sweeton breathed hard and fast beneath a furious rustling for a few short minutes, choking out an expletive before he gave a muffled grunt and fell silent but for his panting. Then he took Elias’s jaw in his hand and kissed him on the mouth again, slower this time.

  “And you, just standing there, as if you aren’t even hot,” Mr. Sweeton whispered, then sighed. “Now I can think straight, though I don’t know how you can, the state you’re in. And blushing like a maiden.”

  Elias was buzzing with excitement, his limbs shaking, his body radiating warmth. He felt as though he had a fever. “I’m fine.”

  “The things I would do to you if you would let me.” Mr. Sweeton sighed again, then took Elias’s elbow and led him across the room. “Here, sit,” he said, pushing a chair under Elias. Elias sat and crossed his legs. By the sound of it, Mr. Sweeton leaned against something, perhaps his desk. The village clock struck five. “If I had my way, you wouldn’t be leaving Mitton today,” Mr. Sweeton said as the bell tolled. “But you must leave soon if you want to make it home before dark. I’ve delayed you long enough.”

  “All right.” It did not matter if Elias walked in the dark—he preferred it because then he did not need to keep his hat so low—but he was not going to argue. Elias stood.

  “All right?” Evidently, Mr. Sweeton had been hoping he would stay.

  “Bess will have you lynched if I’m not back soon,” Elias said, making for the door. His hand was on the doorknob when Mr. Sweeton touched his shoulder.

  “Let me walk you out and show you to the road,” he said. For once, Elias did not protest a show of chivalry. He could not remember how to get out of the barrack, let alone back to the post road.

  Mr. Sweeton led him out of the building. “Selfish sod,” Mr. Keys said as they walked past. Elias felt his face get even hotter, but he said nothing. Mr. Sweeton rustled, as though he made some sort of gesture, but otherwise did not acknowledge the remark. When they reached the post road, Lord Nelson padding at Elias’s side, Mr. Sweeton sneezed and turned Elias in the direction of Kitwick. He put a light hand on the small of his back.

  “Safe travels,” he murmured, and kissed Elias on the mouth again. Elias forgot what he was going to say, if he was going to say anything at all. “I look forward to seeing you again.”

  Without a word, Elias began walking home.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Bess, why didn’t you tell me I’ve a nice ass?”

  It was later that evening, and they were tending the bar together. Bess worked the floor while Elias drew up drinks. Everyone at the Peach and Pear was nursing a drink, so they had a lull in responsibilities.

  There was a cough and a splash. Bess had apparently spit her beverage across the table. She sometimes had a whiskey with water if nights were quiet.

  “What?”

  “It has recently come to my attention I have a nice ass.” Two men had told him this in a short period of time. “Why didn’t I know this?”

  “Jesus, Elias, you’re my brother. How the hell am I supposed to know if you’ve a nice ass?”

  “You mean you can’t tell, even objectively? I can tell your voice is objectively pleasing even though you’re my sister and I don’t give a whit about women like that.”

  “Who told you you’ve a nice ass?” Bess demanded.

  “That’s irrelevant.”

  “I don’t think it is.”

  “Do you have a nice ass? I always assumed you had a nice everything because of how a room full of people changes when you walk into it. The m
en get quiet, and then they get boisterous. Objectively, do you have a nice ass?”

  “Oh my God. Elias, I wear flowy, high-waisted dresses. No one can tell the shape of my ass. It’s my tits they love. But objectively, yes. I’ve got a splendid body. So do you. You’re pretty, like me.”

  “I’m pretty?” Elias spat.

  “Yes. I wouldn’t say handsome. You’re pretty. Objectively.”

  “Like a girl?”

  “Like the male version of me.”

  “Jesus Christ,” Elias muttered. “I liked it better when I had no idea what people thought of my arse.”

  “How can you be so oblivious? Didn’t you hear how the girls giggled when you walked through town naked?”

  “Girls always giggle.”

  “What about Kenneth Davies? Can’t you tell how he changes when you’re around?”

  “I’m always around when I’m around, so no.”

  “Cheeky.”

  “Yes, my cheeks are divine.”

  “Who told you you’ve a nice ass?”

  “That’s private.”

  “We don’t keep secrets.”

  Normally, this was true. Elias realized he was keeping two major ones from her: he had kissed the highwayman, and Mr. Sweeton had kissed him on the mouth. He was turning into a complete harlot.

  “Speak of the devil,” Bess muttered.

  “Who? Kenneth Davies?”

  “Yes.”

  “Here?”

  “Obviously, you idiot. He’s coming over. I need to go round on the tables.”

  “Don’t leave me alone with him!”

  “I’ll be back in a bit.”

  “You bitch!” Elias whispered as Bess swished away.

  “Good evening, Mr. Burgess.” Kenneth was standing opposite the bar from him. Elias tried not to dwell on his unusual pronunciation of his name: “Mithter Burgeth.”

  “Mr. Davies,” Elias greeted him. “You never come here.”

  “First time for everything, I suppose,” he lisped. There was a squeak as he sat at one of the bar stools. “Could I have a…er…a…” He sounded lost.

  “Ale?”

  “No, I don’t like ale.”

  “Cider?”

  “I had some of my mother’s earlier today.”

  “Mulled wine?”

  “Er, that sounds nice.”

  “Coming right up.”

  Elias went to the part of the bar he had stored the flask of mulled wine, taking a strong sniff to be sure before he poured a glass for Kenneth. It was all sweetness, citrus, cloves, cinnamon, and ginger. “Here you are.”

  “Thank you.”

  Kenneth took a sip and put his glass down with a soft clink.

  “So you’re still walking to Mitton every second day?” Kenneth asked.

  “Yes. Until Mr. Scorsby can find my replacement.”

  “I’m sorry you lost your job. It’s not your fault.”

  “No one ever said life was fair.”

  Kenneth took another sip. “I was thinking of asking Mr. Scorsby if he’d hire me in your place. But I wanted to ask you first. I don’t want there to be hard feelings.”

  “I don’t care,” Elias said. “Someone’s going to replace me sooner or later. What does it matter if it’s you?”

  “I don’t want you to dislike me.”

  Elias coughed. Could Kenneth not tell he barely tolerated him as it was?

  “It wouldn’t make me feel any differently about you,” Elias replied.

  “What’s he like, your highwayman?” Kenneth asked, sliding his glass over the bar top. “Seems an odd thing to me to steal a man’s clothes so much.”

  “A dandy dresser,” Elias muttered.

  “Is that all?”

  The highwayman had nice lips and sweet breath. But Elias was not going to tell Kenneth about that. “He has a pistol.”

  “Oh my,” Kenneth said. He made a shivering sound. “How frightening! You’re so brave to continue work as you do.”

  For some insane reason, the thought of Augustus holding up Kenneth made Elias jealous. He poured a glass of mulled wine and took a gulp.

  “Have you heard the news lately?” Elias asked. He felt mean suddenly.

  “What news?”

  “The French are amassing men to send across the Channel.”

  “Why?”

  “Why do you think? To invade.”

  “Oh. That’s not good.”

  “You have a profound gift of understatement, Mr. Davies.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” Elias put his glass down. He grew troubled when he realized it was now an effort to make fun of Kenneth where it never had been before.

  “So, how’s life, anyway?” Elias tried anew. He did not know much about Kenneth for certain other than his sordid romantic history with Mr. Sweeton and his apparent disdain for current events.

  “Not terrible. Mother’s still depressed since Father revealed he has a second family in Elleshire. That’s why he traveled so much all these years, you know? We thought it was for sales, but now we know I have two sisters and a brother in Elleshire.”

  Taken aback, Elias did not know what to say. “Er, that’s awful.”

  “Not really. I always thought I was an only child. Turns out I have three half siblings now!”

  “Right. Well, congratulations, then. Have you met any of them?”

  “No, but Father plans to take me to Elleshire in November. I can’t wait.”

  “That’s nice.”

  He heard Kenneth take another sip of wine. “How’re things with you?”

  “Other than losing my job? Peachy.”

  “Ha!” Kenneth gave an explosive laugh. “Peachy! Like the Peach and Pear. You’re funny, Mr. Burgess.”

  “You’re very quick, Mr. Davies,” Elias said, trying to sound genuine. He had no idea why he now felt he should be nice to Kenneth of all people.

  “Thanks. I always did do well in lessons before we had no money and they had to stop. That was another hint Mother and I always missed. Father worked so much, but we never had any money.”

  Mrs. Davies must be as quick as her son, Elias reflected.

  “What was your best subject?” Elias asked.

  “Mathematics. I just loved differential calculus. Sometimes I still make up equations and solve them on my own. I also have someone send me books from London in exchange for money or what trinkets I can give. I work through the books and return them.”

  Mathematics was always difficult for Elias; he found it next to impossible to memorize separate strings of numbers to manipulate and could only conceptualize matters with the aid of an abacus. Even then, counting the beads had been a tedious affair. More often than not, he relied on an elaborately coded system of taps, sniffs, and quill dipping to get the answers from Bess during his oral examinations as she sat across the room.

  Elias knew it was not just him who struggled with mathematics. Bess had not touched differential calculus before the limits of her mathematical learning had been reached; differential calculus was notoriously difficult. Elias did not know whether Kenneth was having him on, or if he was actually intelligent.

  “You must be very bright,” Elias offered.

  “I hope so. Part of the reason I want to have the post boy job is because I want to save up money for college.”

  “College?”

  “I know I’m a bit older, and I’m comparatively poor, and I’d be the first in my family to go, but I think maths is the only thing I’m any good at. I’ve heard about sponsorships and scholarships, so I’ve sent off inquiries about those and am waiting to hear back. Newton went to Trinity College, you know. I’d love to go there.”

  The idea of Kenneth Davies going to Trinity College was almost overwhelming. How had Elias never realized how intelligent he was? Or delusional? For he must be one of the two. “Come now, I’m sure you’re good at other things.”

  “I’m really not. I’ve no interest in learning anything
else except perhaps physics, and that’s only because there’s so much maths in it. I have no head for business, so Father wants to hand off his business to my brother in Elleshire. He’s a year younger than me and illegitimate, so I inherit it by law, but Father might just sell it to him for a shilling so I don’t have to worry about it.” Kenneth sighed. “I’m a disappointment to him in so many ways.”

  “He should be proud of you,” Elias heard himself say.

  “Why? Because I can play with numbers? It’s not like differentials mean anything to him.”

  “You excel where most others don’t. It’s impressive.”

  “Do you think so?” Kenneth asked.

  “Well, sure.” Elias was never interested in Kenneth before now because he always thought him vapid. Now, he was intimidated by his apparent intelligence. He decided he must like average intelligence people.

  “Thank you, Mr. Burgess.” Kenneth put his glass back on the bar top, and it sounded empty.

  “Care for another drink?” Elias asked.

  “I’d better not,” Kenneth said. “I told Mother I’d be back before dark. I don’t want her to worry.”

  “All right. It was nice to visit with you, Mr. Davies.”

  “Likewise. Er, before I go, I have another question. When you’re in Mitton, have you seen anything of Mr. Sweeton? I know you saw him a few times when he was in Kitwick, since you reported the highwayman’s thefts to him, and I was just wondering…”

  “No,” Elias said honestly. He had seen nothing of Mr. Sweeton. But he had heard and felt a great deal of him.

  “Oh. We’re good friends, see, and I haven’t heard a word from him since he left, though I’ve sent a letter or two to the Mitton barrack.”

  Elias felt beastly. Poor Kenneth.

  “I can try to find him next time I’m in Mitton,” he offered. It was clear Kenneth had feelings for Mr. Sweeton, even if Mr. Sweeton was willing to abandon him at the drop of a hat. No, at Elias’s complaint… “Is there any message you’d like me to pass on?”

  “You don’t need to do that,” Kenneth said. “With any luck, I’ll be going to Mitton often enough in a few days. I was just wondering.”

  “Sorry,” Elias said. He meant this in a few ways.

  “Not to worry! Good evening, Mr. Burgess.”