Just a Little Heartache

by Merry Farmer

  Niall pulled out, then collapsed between Blake’s still spread legs, their sweaty bodies falling together as every last bit of strength left both of them. Blake closed his arms and legs around Niall, overjoyed at entwining with him.

  “I’ll admit it,” Niall panted, wriggling to find a way for the two of them to rest comfortably together. “That was amazing.”

  “It was meant to be,” Blake gasped, fighting to catch his own breath. “We were meant to be. And if you argue that point with me, I’ll fight you.”

  Niall laughed in exhaustion and snuggled against Blake. “I’m too tired to argue tonight,” he said, nuzzling the side of Blake’s head. “I’ll argue tomorrow.”

  “No, you won’t,” Blake told him, smiling in utter contentment as he stroked Niall’s side. He closed his eyes and let out the breath it felt like he’d been holding for ten years. At last, he was back where he was supposed to be.

  Chapter 17

  Niall slept like the dead, in spite of the fact that he considered crawling into Blake’s bed to put an end to the wildly impractical lust that had him at his wit’s end a personal failure. Blake had hurt him once. Who was to say he wouldn’t do it again? He’d been so determined to keep his distance, to help Blake with practical matters, but not to relinquish control of his heart. Everything about making love with Blake was a disastrous idea.

  Except that as morning dawned and Niall drifted awake to the sensation of Blake snuggled against him, his breath hot on his shoulder as Blake’s head rested on the pillow next to his, Blake’s arm and leg thrown over him as he lay on his back, Niall couldn’t help but smile with contentment. All the betrayal and heartache in the world couldn’t change the fact that Blake belonged exactly where he was, tangled up with him.

  Niall drew in a careful breath, twisting to his side and trying not to wake Blake. Blake stretched and adjusted without fully awaking until the two of them lay facing in each other’s arms. The light of morning filtered through the curtains, illuminating Blake’s stubbly face just enough for Niall to memorize how beautiful he was in sleep. He stroked his fingers along the side of Blake’s face, feeling the roughness of his day’s growth of beard. Blake’s beard grew in faster than anyone’s Niall had ever known, but why that made him want to laugh with joy was beyond him. He continued studying Blake’s face with his fingertips, touching the sensual line of his lips and remembering how perfect they were for kissing.

  “I’m afraid to open my eyes,” Blake murmured at last, proving he was awake after all. “If this is a dream, I don’t want to wake up.”

  “Neither do I,” Niall said softly. He moved his hand to Blake’s side, tracing lazy lines across his back and arse. They were already both half-erect, and for once Niall didn’t mind his growing arousal. The cat was already out of the bag. Might as well enjoy it. He shifted closer to Blake, kissing him tenderly as he brushed his hand over Blake’s hip to stroke his cock.

  “I’m definitely dreaming,” Blake said with a hitch in his breath, reaching for Niall’s prick as well. “I wouldn’t be this happy if this weren’t a dream.”

  Niall smiled as he kissed Blake, his heart lighter than it’d been in ages. The world seemed so quiet, for a change, without any of the usual noise or pressures of who they were or who they were supposed to be beating down on them. They took their time, touching, kissing, stroking, and pleasuring each other as if they hadn’t a care in the world. There was no desperation, only bone-deep pleasure when they each came, and when the post-orgasmic contentment settled over them, they drifted off into a half-sleep, hands entwined between them.

  The subtle swish of something being pushed under the door startled Niall into full wakefulness an unknown amount of time later. He sat abruptly, knocking his elbow into Blake’s chest as he did, heart racing. His fear of being caught in a position that could get both him and Blake arrested and fill the scandal section of every newspaper in England left him after one terrifying moment when he spotted a small envelope on the floor by the door. Depending on what the envelope contained, they still weren’t out of the woods.

  “What is that?” Blake asked exactly what Niall was thinking as Niall crawled over him to climb out of bed.

  Niall snatched the envelope from the floor and tore into it, not caring what he looked like, standing there naked in the morning light and in desperate need of a bath. He unfolded the letter and scanned through it, pulse pounding, then read it aloud for Blake, “‘I know that you’re here and I know what you’re looking for. Meet me at Shell Cottage at ten o’clock this morning and we’ll talk.’ It’s signed ‘Annamarie’, and there’s an address included,” Niall added.

  Blake threw aside the bedcovers, leaping to his feet and crossing to take the letter from Niall. He scanned it, then glanced anxiously around the room. “What time is it?”

  Niall strode to the pile of his things from the night before and searched for his pocket watch. He hadn’t wound it before going to bed, but it was still ticking away. “Almost nine,” he said with a frown, hoping the watch was running fast.

  “We need to hurry,” Blake said in a grave voice, heading to the room’s washbasin.

  Niall tried not to be irritated that the hotel hadn’t updated its facilities to include indoor plumbing, but it was remote, after all. The best he and Blake could do with the time they had was to trade off at the wash table with the sponge and soap the hotel provided and to remove the evidence of everything they’d shared that morning and the night before. Blake didn’t seem to care, but Niall still felt like he needed a good, long soak in a porcelain tub, possibly with Blake, as they dressed and headed out of the hotel without so much as stopping for breakfast.

  The address Annamarie had given them was easy enough to find and required minimal stops to ask for direction. Shell Cottage turned out to be exactly what its name implied—a small cottage decorated with shells that sat right on the beach just beyond the area Niall figured was densely populated with holiday-makers in the summer months. It looked downright quaint in the morning sunlight. The tide was in and the gentle lap of the sparkling water would have made the scene idyllic, if not for their reason for being there.

  “Greta!” The cry that burst from Blake’s lungs as they reached the garden gate and spotted the children playing in the yard that faced the beach was powerful enough to make Niall’s heart bleed. “Jessie! Alan!”

  Before Niall could think to stop him, Blake tore through the gate and around the side of the house.

  “Papa!” Three sets of small voices screamed with joy. All three of the children dropped what they were doing to run to Blake, arms outstretched.

  An odd but potent burst of jealousy raced through Niall, making it difficult for him to breath. He’d known from the start that they weren’t at university anymore and that he would forevermore have to share Blake’s affections with his children—if their dalliance was anything more than a jolt of nostalgia to begin with—but seeing the undiluted joy on Blake’s face as he dropped to his knees and accepted the embrace of three tiny souls who bore a strong resemblance to him was far more difficult than Niall anticipated. On top of that, he felt like an absolute monster for begrudging Blake anyone’s love but his own.

  “My darlings,” Blake gasped, burying his face in his older daughter’s hair for a moment. “I’ve missed you so much. You have no idea.”

  “We missed you too, Papa,” Greta said, weeping. All three of the children were weeping.

  “I want to go home,” Alan wailed, setting the children off even more.

  “We didn’t want to go away with Mama at all,” Jessie added. “She made us go.”

  “I don’t like it here, Papa,” Greta went on, Jessie and Alan expressing similar sentiments at the same time. “Please, take us home.”

  “We want to go home,” Jessie agreed.

  “Children! Get back at once!” Annamarie’s sharp voice sounded from the far corner of the house.

  Niall straightened, swallowing the lump of pity tha
t had formed in his throat. Annamarie wasn’t alone. A sour-faced maid was with her. The maid rushed forward to pull the girls away from Blake so fast Blake didn’t have time to react. Annamarie wrenched Alan clumsily off his feet and marched him away herself. In the middle of their actions, Ian rushed around the house as though he’d run from wherever he’d been.

  “Give them back,” Blake demanded, face contorted in distress, pushing to his feet. “I don’t care about anything else, just give my children back.”

  Ian scowled at Blake as though the devil himself had just crawled out of the ground. Then he spotted Niall at the edges of the scene. “You,” he growled, expression twisting to disgust.

  Niall’s jealousy evaporated into razor-sharp purpose. “Ian.” He stepped forward, taking his place at Blake’s side. “You’ve changed.”

  Indeed, he had. The charm of youth had vanished from Ian’s face and form. His hair was receding, and he’d grown stout in a way that didn’t suit his frame. He hadn’t shaved that morning, which gave him even more of the appearance of a rogue.

  “So have you,” Ian said with a sneer. He glanced between Niall and Blake. “I should have known,” he went on. “All those years ago, I should have known that the two of you were wicked and perverted.”

  “Don’t say those things about my papa,” Greta shouted behind Ian.

  The nursemaid jerked hard on Greta’s arm, causing Greta to yelp.

  “Get your hands off of her,” Blake growled, looking as though he would strangle the nursemaid as he tried to step forward.

  Ian stopped him by grabbing his lapels and wrestling him in place. “Get the children inside,” he snapped.

  The nursemaid rushed to do as she was ordered, even though Blake shouted, “Leave them where they are. Give them back to me.”

  “Children shouldn’t be around your kind of wickedness,” Annamarie said, though to Niall, she didn’t sound convinced. She swayed on her spot, wringing her hands and glancing between Ian and Blake. She bit her lip as well, looking as though she would rather be anywhere else but where she was.

  “Why did you leave him if not because you don’t want anything to do with the life he gave you anymore?” Niall asked, moving closer to her. Instinct told him that the key to getting Blake everything he wanted was to appeal to Annamarie directly.

  He worried in an instant that his instincts were wrong when Annamarie tensed and made a disgusted face at him. “Stay away from me, you…you abomination. It’s your fault he never loved me.”

  Niall froze in the middle of walking to her, blinking at the odd way she phrased things. “I wasn’t aware you cared whether he loved you or not.”

  “I want to be adored,” Annamarie shouted with a sudden vehemence that Niall would have found comical under any other circumstance. “He was supposed to worship me and give me everything I wanted.”

  Niall’s esteem for the woman dropped lower than it already was.

  “I gave you a home, a title, a position in society,” Blake said, more hurt than angry, though Niall thought he had every right to be furious. “I gave you beautiful children. They’re all I want, Annamarie. You can have everything else, all of it.”

  “Do you see?” Annamarie flung one arm at Blake but glared at Niall as she did. “He doesn’t even care enough to try to win me back. And it’s because you’ve turned him into a perverted beast who would rather commit sodomy than love me.”

  Niall pressed his lips tightly shut and clenched his jaw. There was no point whatsoever in arguing matters of the heart and of nature with a woman like Annamarie. Instead, he put his mind to work searching for the right thing to say to convince her to give up the children.

  “Isn’t it as I told you?” Ian stepped away from Blake—who continued to stare beyond the corner of the house where his children had been taken away—to Annamarie’s side. He rested a hand on Annamarie’s back. “I told you they were beyond redemption.”

  “The children want to come home,” Blake said, striding forward as if he would go after them.

  Niall leapt toward him, grabbing his arm to hold him back. “We’ll get them,” he assured Blake. “But we need to deal with this first.”

  Annamarie snorted. “Do you think I would even consider handing innocent children over to evil men like the two of you now?”

  “They are my children.” Blake’s expression darkened as he stared at Annamarie. “You never loved them.”

  Niall was convinced the bluntness of Blake’s statement would only enrage Annamarie more, but instead, she lowered her head guiltily and twisted her hands together. “I will admit that I am not the most maternal of women,” she said, face flushing.

  “Precisely,” Blake said. He drew in a steadying breath and rolled his shoulders before going on. “I know you, Annamarie. I might not love you the way you want me to. I’m not capable of loving you that way. But I have always done my best to care for you and respect you. Even you must admit to that.”

  Annamarie lowered her head farther, her face flushing deeper as she winced. Niall’s heart sped up. Blake had the truth of things and knew the right way to tackle the situation after all. He could see that Annamarie would break in a matter of minutes.

  “She will admit to nothing,” Ian spat, ruining the groundwork Blake had laid. “It’s bad enough that you’re a perversion of what God intended a man to be, but to disappoint a woman as beautiful and charming as Annamarie is a crime.” He simpered over Annamarie with an affection that was blatantly false to Niall’s eyes.

  Unfortunately, Annamarie seemed to lap up the sycophantic praise. “Oh, Ian. You always did care for me.”

  “Yes,” Blake said suddenly. “He always did care for you. And you should have been allowed to marry him from the start.”

  “He wasn’t a duke,” Annamarie said in an undertone.

  Niall scowled in disgust, but Blake seemed to ignore the comment and went on with, “Don’t you want the chance to right that wrong? Allow me to grant you a divorce—one in which I will claim that you are the wronged party, even—and to bestow a generous settlement on you. You’ll be free to marry Ian at last. I’ll even support that life with a generous annual stipend. Just give me the children back.”

  Annamarie glanced up at him as though considering the offer. To Niall’s mind, her eyes flashed with avarice.

  But Ian railroaded the offer with, “That is nowhere good enough.”

  Blake let out a frustrated breath and rubbed a hand over his face. “You know what I want,” he said, shrugging and letting his arms fall to his sides. “It’s time you tell me what you want, what your involvement in this entire situation is. Name your price, Ian.”

  A deep wariness swirled through Niall’s gut. Asking Ian what he wanted and giving the man the impression he would get it was a terrible idea, as far as Niall was concerned.

  Ian seemed to confirm it by grinning slyly. “I want everything,” he said. “I want everything you stole from me back then. I want your pride to suffer along with your wallet.”

  “So it’s money you want?” Niall asked, wishing there was a way he could save Blake from everything he dreaded might happen next.

  “Of course.” Ian barked a laugh. “But more than that. I want the medallion, for one.”

  Niall blinked and shook his head. Blake looked equally as flummoxed. “What medallion?” he asked.

  “The prize you won,” Ian said. “Professor Carroll’s medallion.”

  Blake’s mouth dropped open. Judging by the confusion that still hung over him, he had forgotten about the prize entirely. “I have no idea where it is,” he said.

  “I don’t care,” Ian went on. “I want it. And I want half a million pounds.”

  Niall nearly choked at the demand, but Blake said, “It’s yours,” without so much as blinking.

  Ian broke into a grin that was as surprised as it was pleased. “You’ll bring me a bank draught for the amount when you bring me the medallion.”

  “Fine.” Blake nodded.
“Give me the children and I’ll go in search of the medallion right away.”

  Annamarie turned as though she would call to the nursemaid, wherever she’d gone, but Ian stopped her with. “Not a chance. You bring me the medallion and a bank draught for the money first and I’ll hand over the children.”

  “No.” Blake’s hands formed into fists at his sides. “I’m not leaving here today without my children.”

  “Are they safe?” Niall asked, resting a hand on Blake’s arm to stop him from throwing himself at Ian.

  “Of course, they’re safe,” Annamarie said, pressing a hand to her chest in offense. “What kind of a mother do you think I am if I don’t at least keep my children safe?”

  “Do you promise that you won’t move them from this house until we return with the medallion?” Niall asked on, ignoring her protest.

  “I can agree to that,” Annamarie said. She looked as shifty as a thief swearing she wouldn’t steal the jewels sitting in front of her.

  Niall didn’t trust her for a moment, but there didn’t seem to be much else they could do. “Then we’ll find the medallion and bring it to you,” he said.

  Blake turned to glare at him. “I’m not leaving without my children.”

  “You’re not leaving with them until you get me what I want,” Ian said. He crossed his arms and looked so smug that Niall wanted to punch him. Clearly, Ian thought he’d won.

  “Think this through logically, Blake,” Niall said, turning Blake to the side and lowering his voice. “It’s the two of us against Annamarie and Ian, the nursemaid, and whoever else is in that house. Don’t forget that Ian’s family is nearby, and they’re likely known in Blackpool. Think this through. What would happen if we took the children by force? We wouldn’t get as far as the train station before the police caught up to us, accusing us of God only knows what crimes.”