Love is a Stranger (13 page)

Eventually, he decided he had no choice but to go up to bed as well. He slipped in silently, not putting the light on, only registering the other man on one side of the bed. He undressed and slid naked between the sheets, hoping Nikolas was asleep. It was wishful thinking. Nikolas turned over and propped himself up on one elbow, staring at Ben in the dark. Ben had no idea whose fault the argument was or whether he should apologise himself or demand one from Nikolas. He wasn’t even entirely sure they
had
argued.

Deciding just to go with his heart, something a very wise and cute professor had once told him to do, he said simply, “I only suggested that to annoy you. I would never sleep with anyone else.”

He could sense silent intensity from the figure in the bed next to him but wasn’t sure exactly what the emotion was. He had no experience of Nikolas being anything other than calm, collected, and in control of his emotions. It suddenly seemed the right thing to do to just decide for Nikolas what this emotion would be. Ben stretched out his arm, cupped Nikolas around the back of the head, and drew him down so he was lying on his broad, and very welcoming chest.

He stroked his fingers in Nikolas’s hair, babying him—if that was what this was. Ben didn’t really care. He reckoned Nikolas had experienced less love in his life than
he
had, and that was saying something. Being so much younger and so much less sophisticated than Nikolas, he’d always allowed the older man to run their relationship. Nikolas wanted it that way; Ben selfishly enjoyed it as well. Now, for the first time, however, Ben began to realise if they were to make this work, something had to change between them. He suddenly felt an incredible surge of protectiveness toward this man who had never before appeared vulnerable to him. He wrapped his arms around the silent figure and pressed his lips to the silky blond hair, now greying ever so slightly at the temples. Incredibly, Nikolas allowed all this. He didn’t even attempt to turn it into a joke or sex, his usual two defence mechanisms whenever things got too emotionally out of his control.

After what seemed like hours to Ben, Nikolas said evenly, “I have been made privy to things I wish I had not. Philipa will want a divorce very soon, but until that time, it is essential for her marriage to appear very stable and very happy.”

Ben really didn’t want to discuss Nikolas’s wife just then, but in line with his new protective and mature stance he asked, “Why would she want a divorce if—?”

“Ben. She plans to remarry.
They
plan to marry. He will be the first heir to the throne to divorce. It will be a constitutional crisis—if your archaic country had a constitution, of course. If a hint of his relationship with Philipa were suspected now, he would lose everything. As it is, he can present himself to his subjects as the long-suffering husband of a philandering younger wife, who turns to an old family retainer for comfort.”

“Jesus Christ. She told you all this? I can’t believe she’d—”

“No, of course not. But I told you once I speak many languages—between the lines is one of them. I have lived with this situation for many years now and have observed it first-hand.”

Ben pulled Nikolas’s face up and stared at him in the dark. “Just knowing this puts you in danger, doesn’t it?”

Nik pursed his lips. “Not this, no, but being divorced will—” He stopped abruptly for some reason and continued in a different tone, “No, no danger.”

Ben wasn’t so convinced. “Why don’t we say fuck off to this bloody country and go live somewhere else?”

“Somewhere beyond their reach?” There was a teasing note to Nik’s voice, and he added, “Ben, they employ people like us to extend their reach wherever they wish it to go. No, I think it is better to be in their faces here, keeping the balance of power between us.” He lay back down on Ben’s chest. “I did not want to tell you all this. I do not know why I did.”

“Maybe, so that when I find your murdered body, I’ll be justified in being really, really cross with you and saying I told you so?”

Nik chuckled. “I doubt anyone would find the body, but the sentiment is appreciated.”

“If anything ever happened to you, I would bring the whole lot of them down like a pack of cards. I’d go through them one by one and destroy them all.”

“Let us hope I do not die a simple, natural death anytime soon then.”

Ben glanced at the clock and saw he had to be up again in a few hours. His head was spinning. He desperately wanted to go for a run, his usual outlet for feelings like these, but he didn’t want to disturb Nikolas, who was breathing evenly on his chest and seemed more restful. He began to brush his fingers over the short hair at the back of Nikolas’s neck once more. “Go this weekend, but come back safe, yeah?”

“I doubt they would do me in and bury me in the grounds, Ben.”

“So…?”

“Just ask. I barely have any secrets left from you, irritating child.”

“If you go down this weekend, will you sleep with her?”

Nikolas snorted. “No. Of course not. You know this.”

“But…”

Nik lifted his head. “What?”

“Well, I was just thinking, if you did, then I could say I’d fucked the guy who’d fucked the future queen of England.”

It got the reaction he’d hoped for: Nikolas came up to punish him. Punishment turned into fun, and fun, as ever between them, turned into mind-blowing physical release that left them both exhausted and replete. It wasn’t so amusing, however, when the alarm sounded just as they were both dozing off. Ben swore, because he was the one who had to get up; he needed to be in place outside the house he was watching to monitor the routine for the second day. Nikolas had no real need to get up and clearly didn’t see the requirement to provide any moral support whatsoever, except for a grunt and pulling the covers higher.

Ben ate whatever food he could find in the fridge and wearily climbed onto his bike. He winced as he sat down, then grinned at the provenance of the pain and fired the bike into life. His life was weird and challenging, but it was good. He cast a mental eye up to the bedroom above him and the whole world that it contained, feeling very privileged as he joined the early morning traffic full of people with lives less lived than his.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Day two mirrored day one, except ballet was replaced by tennis lessons at an indoor sports’ arena in south London. Consequently, the girl and mother arrived home just after the BMW did, but other than that, suburban, middle-class life continued on its planned, regimented way. He was so tired all day that his forehead hit the table of the café over lunch as he watched the mother—who he now knew was called Felicity—meet with her mother and sister, the other two women so closely resembling her that if they weren’t related Ben reckoned there’d been cloning in Knightsbridge recently. Fortunately, his waitress was entranced by the gorgeous man who’d twice occupied her table for lunch, so she brought him a special Turkish coffee with so much caffeine in it he felt his heart racing for the rest of the afternoon. By the time he’d watched them safely ensconced in the house and the lights go off at ten, he was thinking only of bed. He arrived home, parked the bike, didn’t even bother to find Nik, collapsed on the bed and fell instantly asleep.

Days three and four were much the same, except tennis became piano and then violin, and then something called Kuman, which Ben assumed was something to do with humus, but all in all, nothing stood out as a way into the family’s life. School, walk the dog, activity, bed. It was something his chaotic and unhappy childhood had never given him, and everything he did that week was tinged with either guilt or envy. It wasn’t a good way to spend his time, and by Friday he was so thoroughly pissed off he decided to cut the surveillance short and left for home at lunchtime. His mood wasn’t helped when he returned to find Nikolas’s bags packed and ready in the hallway for an early departure to Devon the next morning.

He went into the kitchen and threw himself into a chair. Nik brought him a tea and sat opposite him. Ben saw an ashtray filled with cigarette butts and all his anger and frustration coalesced into that one little metal object. He grabbed the ashtray and flung the contents into the bin, then on an afterthought threw the ashtray in as well. Nik chuckled and said something that sounded like, “Oh, yes, that will stop me,” but it was uttered so quietly Ben couldn’t call him on it. Instead, he flung himself down into the chair and gave Nikolas a swift account of the final weekday routine. They sat drinking their tea, until Nikolas suddenly said, “Go get the car.”

Ben looked up. “Why?”

“I have decided what will be your way in.”

“And…?”

Nikolas smirked. “Get the car.”

§§§

They drove through the Friday London traffic until they came to a large park and drove down a lane toward a ramshackle set of buildings. Ben heard an odd, unpleasant noise long before he worked out what it was. It was only as they climbed out of the car and approached one of the buildings that he understood the cacophony of noise was that of barking. He turned to ask Nikolas what was going on, but Nikolas skirted past him and went into the office. Ben followed and discovered a young woman leading Nikolas into a corridor at the back. The long hallway was lined on both sides by cages, and each cage had a dog in it; some bouncing up against the wire, some just barking, and some running around in circles trying to do both.

Ben stopped at the first cage. The dog looked like an Alsatian. He barked insanely. Ben winced, having had many experiences of being bitten by dogs just like this. He moved on. Nikolas was listening to the girl who was pointing out the benefits of each of the dogs, extolling virtues and playing down problems. Ben continued to walk down the row of cages on his own until he came to one where, at first, he couldn’t actually see a dog. He peered in and then saw a pair of amber eyes watching him from deep within a basket at the back, in the shadows. No barking here. He shook the cage bars and clicked his tongue. The amber eyes didn’t waver. He frowned and whistled. Nothing but a blink. Ben turned and beckoned the girl over. She was still talking to Nikolas but gave Ben’s dog a quick look and shook her head. “That’s Radulf. He’s a sticky, he can’t be rehomed.”

Ben felt Nikolas at his shoulder. “We’ll take him.”

The girl frowned. “No, I’m sorry. He’s had behavioural problems. He was…well, he had a very bad time at his previous home. But we never put a dog down, so you are very welcome to sponsor him.”

When they left later that evening with the large, shaggy dog called Radulf sitting on the backseat, Ben wasn’t sure who’d been conned or charmed more. Him or the girl. Or perhaps the dog. He turned to Nikolas, who for once had opted to drive. He had a slight smirk on his face. Ben frowned. “Can I ask now what’s going on?”

Nikolas nodded. “What is the one thing that the girl has done consistently every day?”

Ben glanced behind at the back seat. “Bloody hell. Walked the dog.”

“Exactly. And what’s the one thing no woman or little girl can resist?” When Ben became more confused, he explained patiently, “A missing dog.” He grinned, obviously pleased with himself. “Radulf is going missing.”

Radulf didn’t look as if he wanted to go missing just as he’d found his way into a brand new Range Rover. He was hanging his head out of the window, grinning, the flaps of his muzzle lifting in the air stream. “Why this dog?”

Nikolas shrugged. “He wasn’t supposed to be rehomed. If we lose him, no one will care.” Ben widened his eyes. Nikolas laughed. “Stupid child. I chose this one because of his name. Radulf is Danish, Ben. So now you are outnumbered by more civilized Europeans.”

When they got back to the house, Radulf settled peacefully enough into the kitchen. Nik took a photo of him on his phone, and half an hour later came back with a series of posters showing his sad, appealing, lost-dog face peering out over the words:
Lost and much missed. Please call Dean
…and Ben’s burner cell number. He handed them to Ben. “Put these up around their street over the weekend. Monday, he will be in the park when they walk. They will find him.”

“This all sounds remarkably simple and complex at the same time. I like my ladies that lunched option better.”

“I did not.”

“What do we do with the dog when he’s gotten us an in?”

“He becomes—what is that expression she used? I did not understand it. Sticky? Yes, he becomes sticky again when we return him to the shelter. Sort him out for the night. I am going to bed. I’m leaving at five tomorrow.”