Secret Of The Manor (14 page)

“Yes. I was wondering... I have Christmas through to New Year off. So, if you didn’t have other plans... I was wondering if you’d like to stay here. You could come to Carl’s with me on Christmas Day. They’ve already asked if I wanted to bring a friend. No one else will be there other than Carl, Eileen, and us. James would be closer, and you wouldn’t be on your own.”

“What about New Year?”

“Wasn’t planning on going anywhere. It’d be nice not to spend it alone, though.”

Alex sat and thought for a while. “I’d like to spend a few days with you over Christmas and New Year, but not the whole period between.”

Warren slumped in disappointment. The point of starting the line of conversation in the first place was to spend more than a couple of days with Alex. He’d come to enjoy his company and friendship. During the week, Warren missed him.

“I’m sorry, Warren. Around here I’m immediately recognized as Lord Walmsley’s son. I’d be confined to the house more than I am at James’, or restricted to sneaking about. I can manage it for a few days, but not much longer.”

“Okay. I can live with that.” Warren settled for what he could get and smiled.

WARREN ROSE on Christmas morning to the aroma of bacon and eggs. As he lowered his feet to the floor, he heard toast pop and the telltale chink of the teapot lid. He grabbed his satin dressing gown and headed out.

He stopped in his tracks when he saw what Alex had done.

One end of his table was laden with a blue, red, and green Christmassy tablecloth. Upon it, two place settings had been laid. There was a pot of tea and two mugs decorated with Rudolph and Santa. A rack of toast and tub of butter accompanied the other items. The radio was on, playing carols from Westminster Abbey, and Alex was hovering over the frying pan. The sight was mouthwatering. He was in thin pyjama pants that tantalisingly covered his pert rear. The rest of his body was bare, other than an apron protecting him from the spitting oil. Everything about him was long and sleek. Warren could easily imagine him in
Lord of the Rings
as an elf, or one of the Na’vi from
Avatar
, only his hair wasn’t appropriate for either.

When Warren first saw Alex, his hair was short and well groomed. Since, it had grown to reach his ears and, although it still shaped into his long neck, the added length had a soft, touchable quality to it. Broad shoulders displayed long muscles that led to a trim waist, and his never-ending legs—well, Warren had illicit thoughts about those. From where Warren stood, he couldn’t see a single hair other than on Alex’s head.

Warren could feel the effect of Alex’s picturesque physique from his dry mouth to his tingling toes and especially his blood-filling groin—not an unwelcome development, but nonetheless one fraught with complications. He needed to regain a modicum of control and headed for the privacy of the bathroom.

Upon his return, Alex spotted him and smiled. “Perfect timing. One egg or two? Ketchup or brown sauce?”

Warren joined Alex in the kitchen area, spied the items on the plate, and made his decision. “Wow. Two eggs, ketchup, and salad cream, please.”

Alex wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Salad cream? Not mayo?”

“Nope. I like ketchup with bacon and salad cream with sausage.” Warren had loved the combination since childhood. Although similar to mayo, he found salad cream sharper to the taste. It offset the fat in the sausage perfectly.

“Weird.”

Warren shrugged and reached into the cupboard for the sauce.

Alex and Warren feasted in their homely version of the Ritz. “This is wonderful, Alex. It’s been many years since I’ve had this on Christmas morning.”

“I enjoyed doing it. It’s been a long time for me, too.”

Warren, lost for words in the fast-changing atmosphere, did the only thing he could think of. He grasped Alex’s hand, kissed it, and bumped his knee under the table. “Thank you.”

Alex’s reply was a nod.

The men finished in silence, cleared away, and took their mugs of tea into the lounge. Warren wasn’t one for decking the halls with boughs of holly or filling every spare surface with tinsel and baubles. Until recently decorations had been unnecessary items to store, and he’d made do each year with a small box of things. Since living at the cottage, he’d treated himself to a tall fibre-optic Christmas tree, a model village scene for the coffee table, a wreath for his door, and a garland for the hearth.

In previous years, Warren had celebrated Christmas more in the days preceding it; listening to carollers around the shops and watching his colleagues in the office. He rarely attended the Christmas party. Usually he bought himself something to open on Christmas morning, and then he’d fire up his laptop and work the rest of the day. But now he was overjoyed to focus his attention on someone else.

Behind the pulsing rainbow lights of the tree, Warren retrieved two parcels and held them out to Alex.

Alex swallowed his mouthful of tea and slowly secured his Rudolph mug next to his chair. “What’s this?”

“I was surfing the Internet, when I saw these and thought of you.”

Alex was like a child. He carefully took hold of the presents, then ripped the paper off them in seconds. Once the contents were revealed, he sat gawping. “Oh my God, you didn’t. Oh my God, you did.” Beneath the shredded paper, there was a fleece Jedi dressing gown and an FX Obi-Wan Kenobi lightsaber. Alex immediately slid his arms into the robe and revelled in its warm softness. Then he reverently unpacked the lightsaber. “This is a thing of beauty, Warren.” With rapt attention, he caressed the length of his present. Upon finding the tab that completed the connection to the batteries, he pulled it out and slid the switch to
on
. Alex moaned in orgasmic ecstasy at the hum of the blade. Warren knew
Star Wars
was his favourite movie.

Warren crossed his legs, hoping to hide the effect Alex’s moans had on him. He watched as Alex jumped to his feet and moved around the furniture, listening to the
swish
sound effects and the lightning crackle as he smacked the lightsaber against the settee. Eventually, Alex returned his present to its packaging, then dived onto Warren, giving him the biggest hug he’d ever had.

As quickly as he descended, Alex moved away and ran to his room, leaving Warren pressed into his chair, stunned. Soon after, Alex returned with two small parcels wrapped in gold paper. “For you.”

Warren smiled, took the items and, corner by corner, divested the first of its cover. Then he sat back and laughed; it was the spoon Alex had taken away with him the night they met. Warren returned it to the drawer in the kitchen. After that he was even more curious as to what the other parcel held. Again, corner by corner, he removed the wrapping until a flat white box with Thomas Sabo written on the cover lay in the palm of his hand. Gingerly, he removed the lid. Inside was a beautiful silver sword with a black gem at the centre of the guard and a skull as the handle. It was attached to a sturdy silver chain.

Warren looked to Alex and choked out, “It’s beautiful. Thank you.” No one had ever given him anything like it before.

Alex, who was sitting on the floor, lifted himself up. He took the necklace, fixed it around Warren’s neck, and softly spoke. “No matter what happens, you are a knight.”

Warren slid his arms around Alex and pulled their bodies together. They stayed in silence for several minutes. No words were needed as both men thought of what lay ahead.

The softness of the fleece under his cheek and beneath his fingers was comforting. “This is snugly,” Warren murmured as he cuddled it closer to him.

Alex released his hold and sat back. “It is. And it’s mine—no swaps allowed, young Skywalker.”

“Yes, master,” Warren replied in true
Star Wars
fashion.

“Mmm.” Alex wiggled his eyebrows. “I like the sound of that.”

Warren slapped Alex’s arm. “Cheeky.” He rose from his seat and collected the scattered rubbish. “Come on. Time to tidy up, get changed, and get to Carl’s.”

“Didn’t think we had to be there until lunchtime?”

“We don’t. But I want to make a stop on the way.” Warren noticed when Alex stiffened. “Don’t worry. We’re not going where there are people. I just want to pop to the church. No one will be there; the vicar said she’s at Stow over Christmas. Besides, if you wear a hat and scarf along with one of my big coats, no one will know it’s you.” Alex was still wary, so Warren offered, “If you prefer, you can stay in the car. I won’t risk exposing you. I promise.”

WARREN PULLED into his usual parking spot. Seeing the area devoid of life, Alex accompanied him down the narrow path. When Warren entered the church grounds, he hesitated and turned to Alex. “You are welcome to come with me or wait here. I won’t be long.”

“I’ll stay here for now, thanks.”

With a nod, Warren continued on. He parted the holly and laid a Christmas wreath against Nicholas’ headstone. “Merry Christmas, Nicholas. I thought about bringing you something different, but what do you give a five-hundred-year-old ghost.”

The wind blew, and Warren could have sworn he heard the word “Peace” whispered through the branches.

“I’m working on that. Am I going to see you today?” he blurted. Warren had gotten used to seeing Nicholas during his visits, and was disappointed when he didn’t show. “Nicholas,” he called. Warren waited for a couple of minutes. “Okay,” he sighed, “another time, then. I’ll make it up to you soon. Merry Christmas, Nicholas.” He left the solitude of the corner and headed back to Alex. In his sadness, Warren didn’t see the eyes follow him to his destination.

As the men walked through the crisp carpet of leaves, they spotted squirrels searching for stores of buried nuts while blackbirds, blue tits, and robins sang in the trees. Listening to the chatter, they didn’t speak again until they reached Warren’s car. It was Alex who broke the silence. “It’s been a good few years since I’ve seen our church from the ground.”

“Was that your first time back since you changed, then?” Warren also made a mental note to ask what it was like to fly.

“Yes; it was weird to be there. But you seem to have taken a shine to the place. Or should I say to someone. I heard you call out to Nicholas.”

Warren huffed in renewed disappointment at not seeing Nicholas. He reined it in before he answered Alex. “I’ve been curious about the church since I saw it from my train window, but I’ve become closer to it since visiting Nicholas. He lets me talk things out without passing judgment.”

“Are you sure about that? Seems he used some criteria to pick you as his champion. Not that I’m sorry about it.” Warren didn’t answer. “Anyhow, you mean you don’t tell Carl everything?”

Keeping an eye on the road, Warren admitted, “No. I’m used to dealing with my life on my own. It’s difficult to open up to someone completely.”

“And you find Nicholas easy to talk to.”

“Yes. Recently, as you know, he’s appeared a lot. To start with, he scared the shit out of me.” Warren snickered at the memory. “Now, I look forward to it.”

Alex looked at his hands. “Maybe me being there scared him off.”

“Possibly,” Warren agreed as he turned a corner. “But I’m still glad you were there.”

By the time their conversation finished, Alex and Warren were at Carl’s. Their timing was excellent, for Carl and Eileen hadn’t long arrived back from the morning service in Stow. They only attended church twice a year, Easter and Christmas, and it was the only time villagers saw Carl in a suit and Eileen in a dress.

As Warren handed Eileen the wine he’d brought, Carl gave his rundown of the service. “Chrissie was on form,” he mused. “Could hear her singing above everyone in the church. Asked after you, she did, me lad.” Warren’s eyes went large as if to say, what the hell for? “Yep. Wanted me to encourage you to go to church, after your
memorable encounter
.”

Warren moved behind Alex in a mock
save-me
gesture. “I didn’t do anything memorable, that I’m aware of.” Alex watched, amused.

Carl chuckled. “You don’t have to with Chrissie Carol. One conversation and she’s appointed herself your auntie.” Everyone laughed, and Carl turned to his wife with a Cheshire Cat grin. “Anyhow, woman, how far’s dinner?”

Eileen scolded, “Cheeky monkey. It’ll be ready when it’s done and not before.”

The aromas coming from the kitchen made everyone’s mouth water. Turkey, roast carrots and potatoes, thyme, and parsley stuffing. To save Eileen’s kitchen from being raided ahead of time, Carl took the boys for a short walk around the stable. The majority of the horses were in their coats out in the field, Argo among them. He was quickly spotted via the brown patch of mud that stretched the length of his waterproof coat, up his mane, and over half his face. Warren shook his head. He would never understand why such a beautiful horse insisted on covering himself in whatever muck was available. All the same, the moment he opened his bag of carrots, the men had a captive audience. It didn’t take long for the bag to empty, and they returned to the house to wash up for lunch.

The house had a genuine family atmosphere. No one was on ceremony. Everyone ate well, pulled crackers, wore hats, told cringe-worthy jokes, and, after the Queen’s Christmas Message, fell asleep where they sat watching
Indiana Jones
.

Halfway through
The Last Crusade
, Warren cracked an eye open and saw Carl in his recliner, covered in a blanket, snoring away like a chain saw. Eileen gently snoozed with her hand propping her head, and Warren was using Alex as a pillow... one he’d drooled on. It took him a few more seconds to notice Alex’s arm was draped over his shoulder and across his chest, and both had slipped down the sofa, legs outstretched. Settling, Warren rested where he was, enjoying the sensation of belonging. He stayed that way until the end of the film, at which time Alex showed signs of waking.

Warren reluctantly slid from Alex’s one-armed embrace. He crept into the kitchen to find everything already clean and made four mugs of tea. Alex sat up straight the moment Warren entered the lounge, and accepted the tea with sleepy thanks. Carl was out for the count, but Eileen stirred when Warren placed her drink on the table beside her chair.