His Royal Favorite (33 page)

Warner stepped slightly closer, and even after all these years, Ben still remembered the scent of his skin. “I’m not a fool, you know.” Warner’s voice was grave now, oddly sincere. “I know you’ll never return to me, not really. I wouldn’t know what to do with you if you did. But I owe you, don’t I? I owe you so very much. I might be able to repay those debts by opening a door.”

Ben looked back toward Warner then, trying to understand. “There are some debts you don’t repay.”

“You’re right. Still, let me try. Let me open the door that sets you free.”

It came clear to Ben then, and he had to suck in a sharp breath.

Warner’s eyes were alight. “Walk out with me tonight. Or if you don’t want to embarrass him, come to me tomorrow. Step off the path that’s been set for you. Shake off your collar and leash. Leave it all behind. It can be that simple.”

Ben felt the nearness of freedom as something dizzying, like the edge of a precipice that both terrified and beckoned. Could he ever return to Warner’s bed? Yes. He could, as a means of annihilating the royal life that had come to surround him. Only something so stark could ever separate him from James.

No one else will ever get to me this way
, he thought, remembering every beautiful moment with James—curling up in bed together just this morning; that kiss they’d staged in the ski-resort snow that had nonetheless been perfect; the tulip James had brought him from the Netherlands; making out in James’s office in Clarence House before stealing upstairs for wild sex; that night he’d first told James he loved him and sworn to stand by him; their Christmas Eve chess game; listening to Runrig in the Islington flat; the ecstatic heat of their first few clandestine meetings; and that moment in Kenya, in the rain, when Ben had held out a glass of rum to a handsome stranger.
No one else.

“Your position doesn’t just confine you,” Warner said. “It defines you. Forever and always, it will control the kind of man you are, everything you’ll ever become. Can you bear that? Because I think you can’t bear it one moment longer.”

Their eyes met. Ben knew the truth.

Warner whispered, “Is this going to be your life?”

***

James stood at the edge of the bed, hands still at his half-untied tie, gaping. “And then?” he said. “What did you tell him then?”

Ben pulled off his socks, then looked up at James and smiled. “I told Warner that there were worse fates than leading a life completely defined by love.”

It washed over James like a wave—not relief exactly, Ben was here with him, after all, but partly that, and partly something far deeper and even better. “Really?”

“Really.” Ben stretched one hand up to James, who took it and sat by his side. He was clearly looking for the right words. “I don’t think I’d realized until then how much of my fighting this was—just fighting my idea of what kind of person I was. And it’s an idea that doesn’t fit any longer. It wasn’t working for me even before I met you, honestly.”

James began to realize he was being given the answer to a much bigger question. He clasped Ben’s hand more tightly. “It’s not as simple as that.”

“No, it’s not,” Ben admitted. “This doesn’t come naturally to me. But I can make it work. It already works, most of the time. It’s just a matter of getting used to it, and learning to focus on the good. And there’s so much good, James. I have a family again. A slightly demented family, but they’re yours and they’re mine. I have more friends that I truly value than I have in years. The charity work—I’ve only started digging into that, and there’s a lot more to do. I’d never have had so much time to concentrate on my writing any other way. Plus I get the two best dogs in the world.” The corner of his mouth quirked in a smile. “I’d put up with a lot worse than that to stay with you.”

James couldn’t quite bring himself to believe this miracle. Memories of his mother’s sorrow, of Ben’s own hesitation, held him back. Ben had surprised him before with his loyalty and his love, but this was the final, ultimate leap. “I need you to be sure,” James whispered. “Yes, it has its good points, but—I know this isn’t the life you want.”

Ben framed James’s face with his hands. “This is the life I can have with you. That makes it the life I want.”

Joy broke through all the doubt. Finally James believed. He wanted to say so but couldn’t speak. He could only smile back through eyes that welled with tears.

They kissed—just a touch, gentle and reverent. Against his lips Ben whispered, “And that’s your answer.”

Epilogue

The Life We Want

July

They were in the exact same bed.

James had surprised Ben with the trip to Kenya on the anniversary of the day they’d met. Despite the grander accommodations available, James had insisted on taking the same cabin Ben had stayed in before, which meant they were now lying in the enormous four-poster bed where they’d made love for the first time.

It even smelled like this
, Ben thought through a haze of need: coconut lotion, and rum on each other’s lips, and the soft scent of James’s sweat.

“Yes?” he murmured as he held James’s hands down against the white sheets.

“Mmmm. Yes.” James nodded. Ben sank into him even deeper, that last inch that brought them together completely. He watched as James sucked in a sharp breath, then moaned softly, an exhalation Ben could feel against his throat.

“I wanted to fuck you so badly that day,” Ben whispered.

“I wanted you to.”

“Just like this?”

“Exactly like this.” James’s smile was drowsy, almost drunk. “But I wanted to fuck you too.”

Ben rocked forward just a little, to make James writhe beneath him. “Yeah? How would you have fucked me?”

“You’ll find out in the morning.”

Softly Ben laughed—and then he began moving, faster and deeper, until they were both crying out, living a fantasy they couldn’t have admitted one year ago, not even to themselves.

***

August

“You have no statements to make on any travel plans?” Kimberley said as they stood near the doors to the palace, car waiting out front.

James shook his head no.

“There are no crises within the family, sir?” The summer breeze ruffled her floral scarf, now tied around the long ponytail that hung down her back. “Princess Amelia’s transfer home from St. Maur Hall continues to be untroubled?”

“She’s doing splendidly,” James confirmed.

“Mr. Dahan’s schedule remains unchanged?”

“His publisher swears the promotional schedule is now final, at least so far as travel goes. As for interviews, we’ll be able to review any amendments well in advance.”

“Your health continues to be excellent, sir?”

Finally James had to laugh. “Kimberley, everything’s fine. More to the point, everything is going to stay absolutely fine for the next three weeks. Insofar as possible, Ben and I plan to remain not only well but also stationary. In other words—relax and enjoy your holiday.”

Kimberley hesitated a moment longer before a smile began to spread across her face. “As you wish, sir.”

“Remember my orders!” He held up a finger, mock-stern. “No smart phone. No iPad. Nothing but mai tais and sunbathing from here on out.”

“Actually, Your Royal Highness, I prefer mojitos.” With that Kimberley strolled off toward the car waiting to spirit her off to Gatwick, and to Ibiza, and a lengthy holiday that was, in James’s opinion, extremely well-deserved.

***

September

“You’ll want to take shaving cream,” James called from the bathroom.

“They have shaving cream in America. I promise.” Ben kept typing on his laptop from his place piled up in bed. This close to the release date of his book, the work never quite seemed to get done. Meanwhile, James had thrown himself into preparations for the impending tour with almost too much enthusiasm. Ben said, “Honestly, James, if I’d wanted someone else to pack for me, I’d have asked Paulson.”

James emerged, shaving cream in hand. “I realize they have this in America,” he said with exaggerated patience, “but you’re not able to pop into the druggist’s and buy some any longer, are you?”

He would be able to send either his publicist or a media escort to purchase such things, but Ben decided not to point this out. James, who had probably never packed his own bag in his life, was having too much fun packing Ben’s. “Shaving cream,” he conceded with a nod. Triumphantly, James put it into the toiletry bag.

A toiletry bag! A suit bag! There were so many pieces of luggage that Ben wanted to laugh. Once having more bags than he used to have possessions might have made him feel burdened. Now it just seemed funny.

He did, however, point out, “Now Glover has to purchase more shaving cream for you.”

“I don’t think I’ll use any.” James smiled. “Every time I grow more than a day’s stubble, you say how much you like it. While you’re gone, and I’m tromping out on Gurness Holm with Cass, I’m going to try a little experiment: two weeks with no razor. We’ll see how it looks.”

“I like the sound of that.” A well-trimmed beard had always turned Ben on, especially if it had a hint of ginger, as James’s seemed likely to.

James busied himself choosing ties for Ben, which Ben let him do. James had better taste in such things anyway. Just as he sent the e-mail off to his agent, another e-mail appeared, this one from his editor. The subject line froze him in place.

“Ben?” James had noticed something was amiss. “What’s wrong?”

To reply, Ben turned the laptop screen around so that James could read it too: FIRST REVIEWS!

“Exclamation mark. That means good news.” James piled onto the bed next to Ben.

“Maybe.”
Probably?
But Ben felt slightly seasick anyway. Still, he jabbed at the keyboard to open the email, ignoring the publisher chatter at the top:

The Royal Favourite, as the tabloids have settled on calling Benjamin Dahan, has mostly been seen as a well-meaning, muscle-bound hunk who provided most of the visual interest in the coming-out saga of the Prince of Wales.

“Not a promising first line,” Ben said.

“At least they called you ‘well-meaning,’” James offered, earning a gentle elbow to the ribs.

As such, expectations for his first book,
The Corporation: A Biography,
have been modest—not in terms of sales, which are expected to soar on the strength of his celebrity, but in terms of literary merit. However, this condescension ignores the fact that Mr. Dahan was for many years a financial journalist working at the height of his field. People will not be able to ignore that for much longer.
The Corporation
is undeniably a serious work, well-written and well-researched, and will demand a serious response from journalists and scholars in the financial world. The popular audience drawn only to his photo on the book jacket will not be disappointed, however. Dahan’s writing style is punchy and vivid, and he illuminates even arcane points of law with sharply chosen anecdotes and the occasional flash of wit . . .

“That’s a rave.” James was grinning. “Isn’t it? That’s a rave review.”

“It’s—not bad.”

“
Not bad
? It’s wonderful!” By now James had begun to laugh, and Ben finally relaxed enough to smile.

“No,” he repeated. “Not bad at all.”

***

October

“I still can’t get used to it,” Cass said. She wore jeans and an old Arsenal jersey, which draped on her more beautifully than any such thing had a right to.

James stroked his new beard. “You’ll have to. It’s here to stay.” He found he liked it quite a lot—though his favorite thing about his whiskers was the way they made Ben all hot and bothered.

Her expression turned impish. “I suppose you don’t need your old beard to approve of your new one.”

James laughed out loud. His facial hair was making its public debut tonight at the charity football match, though that was the least of his concerns. For one, out on the field, along with Will Farrell and Gordon Ramsey and Gerard Butler and somebody from
Eastenders
, were Spencer Kennedy and—there, the tallest figure on the left in the blue jersey—Ben.

It would be fun
, Spencer had said.
A good way for Ben to get out there without you.

I’m going to get to see Beckham up close, right?
Ben had said.

James had wanted to point out that the Beckhams’ charitable giving meant royals could count on talking with them a few times a year, but instead he’d urged Ben to take part. Now he felt nervous, perhaps a bit like a parent watching their child at a school match. But of course Ben was well able to take care of himself, despite possibly being distracted by Beckham’s thighs (though who wouldn’t be?)

Most important of all: Indigo was with them in the luxury box. This was her first appearance in public since coming home from St. Maur Hall two weeks before. Although Indigo looked well enough, wearing jeans and a jumper rather than the dressy stuff her maids used to stick her in, James knew this experience must be raw for her. Nor could he forget the rubber band around her wrist.

Still, she smiled and applauded. The cameras beyond, focused on the windows of the luxury box, would be able to capture that and show the world how much healthier she was.

“Would you like a mineral water?” James said. “Or some juice, maybe. Or a sandwich?”

“I’m
fine
,” Indigo insisted. She smiled at him fondly. “You’ve been hovering like a novice footman all evening.”

“I’m sorry. It’s not that I don’t believe in you. You know that, don’t you? I don’t mean to—” James caught himself and went back to formula. “When I see you in front of the public again, I think that it must be stressful for you, and that makes me feel nervous.”

She considered that before answering. “It
is
stressful, but not to any extent I can’t handle. Doing more public events where I’m not the focus of attention should make me a little better able to handle the ones where I am.”

Before, Indigo had always resisted this sort of thing; James had always defended her and allowed her as much solitude as she wanted. He’d thought he was helping, but he hadn’t been, not really.

In his mind he heard the echo of Richard’s old complaint:
You coddle the girl
. Even though Richard’s attempts to handle Indigo had been even more inept than James’s own, in this one thing, James was chagrined to realize, Richard had had a point.

“Oh, come on, you wankers, move!” Cass bellowed at the field. Apparently Spencer had failed to block a shot by some pop star, which Cass would let him live down exactly never.

James and Indigo both laughed a little at Cassandra, and the moment eased—but not completely. He realized that, once again, he needed to trust Indigo to handle the conversation they needed to have. “When I see the rubber band, I don’t understand it. It makes me nervous that you need something to hurt yourself.”

“Popping the rubber band against my skin is much less damaging than cutting myself.”

“I know, I know. I just wish you didn’t need that.”

“I wish too,” Indigo said evenly. “But the fact is that I do need it, at least to know it’s here. I might always have to rely on painful stimulation when I’m feeling pressured. But the rubber band is another tool in my toolbox, don’t you see? If I have to do something, I can do this. And maybe I
won’t
need it. Feeing like I’m in control, like I have a good solution that doesn’t cause real damage—it makes me less likely to need that solution in the first place. Does that make sense?”

Not really
, James wanted to say, but he could tell how much steadier Indigo was already. “If it works, it works,” he said.

“Exactly.” She smiled. “Relax, would you? I don’t need it tonight. I’m actually having fun.”

***

November

Ben’s first official royal function had arisen from what he considered to be the absolute worst reasons possible.

“Oh, come on!” he’d protested during the meeting with Kimberley. “Bending to that kind of prejudice, that kind of antigay hysteria—”

Kimberley had held up her hand. “Mr. Dahan, I share your disquiet. However, keep in mind that in the wake of the Jimmy Savile inquiries, everyone is operating with a heightened sense of caution. We cannot allow even a window of opportunity in which someone could allege that impropriety occurred.”

James always had better control of his temper, but even he had been exasperated. “Does that mean I can’t visit with gay youth at all? I very much want to accept this invitation. It means a lot to me.”

“I believe we can do it, sir,” Kimberley said, “if you do not go alone.”

She had smiled at Ben then, challenge beneath her polite façade, and he’d realized instantly that, as of now, he was on the royal events circuit, at least once in a while.

Normally Ben wouldn’t have done anything official until he and James were engaged, which they weren’t. They’d agreed together to wait until they were no longer very controversial, in fact until the British public had begun to ask when the two of them would get on with it already. That didn’t bother Ben, not least because it meant that for the most part his time was his own. Finally that too was beginning to change.

I get to ease into it
, Ben told himself as they flew to Manchester that day. He’d start like this, with a handful of events dealing with causes he cared about. Eventually, he’d have a schedule far more challenging, more like James’s own . . .

But he could handle that.

They arrived at a community center, which now hosted, among other things, a LGBT Youth Program. James hoped eventually to become a patron of this group, which was apparently a very significant thing to be, but for now it was still getting started. Ben understood that he and James were here not only to express royal approval but also to stand as role models: stable, happy, committed gay partners.

Me, a role model
, Ben thought. In his head he could hear Warner Clifton’s laughter, but let him laugh, wherever he was. Ben’s life was proving to be a long, strange journey indeed, but he liked where it was leading.

James held out his hand to a young teenage boy, who smiled as if awestruck. But James was the one who looked even more bowled over. “You’re Gregory Matthews.”

“Yes, Your Royal Highness.” The kid was flushing bright red. “I—I wanted to say—thanks for talking about me at the Christmas speech last year. It meant a lot, sir.”

James smiled, but Ben could see the emotion very close to the surface. “Well, Gregory, I wanted to thank
you
. Without your bravery, I don’t know when I would have come out. You inspired me. You changed my life for the better. And you will always have my gratitude.”