The Bridge of Silver Wings

by John Wiltshire

  “He looks more like my father than I do. You noticed it yourself, Nik.”

  Philipa cast Ben a swift glance at this use of her ex-husband’s familiar name. Ben saw her surprise and blushed deeply, not something he often did. She appeared to be attempting not to smile as she continued her tale. “Of course then she met Hector, and she raised John and Natasha together.”

  “Until Hector’s death.”

  She gave Nikolas a knowing look. “Some people say Hector isn’t dead. They never found a body. He was being questioned over fraud in his bank. Next thing we all knew, he was dead. But Camilla has never remarried, and there’s no shortage of money there, as I suspect you’ve already discovered. So, that’s all the gossip I know about your new family, Ben. It could all be just that: gossip. Now, I’m off out with the dogs for a walk before it gets dark. What are you two going to do? You’re staying for dinner, so don’t even think about saying you have to go.” She tapped the scar on Nikolas’s nose. “I want to hear about how you got that.” She called the dogs to her side and went toward the gunroom.

  Ben poured them both some more tea. He glanced over at Nikolas. “Do you think he knows? Do you think he knows his uncle was also his…? Jesus. It’s horrible.”

  Nikolas gave the faintest of pouts. “My reaction to discovery of incest may not be quite as severe as yours, Ben.”

  Ben put down his cup and took Nikolas’s hand. “Damn it. I’m sorry. I didn’t think. This changes things though, yeah?”

  “How?”

  “It just feels wrong suddenly. Me coming in new. God, imagine what my mother must have thought. She must have found out.”

  “Yes. She must have seen the resemblance between cousins was too strong, that John looked more like your father than you did. Two sets of Redvers’s blood running through his veins. We don’t know now, but maybe Camilla told your mother to drive a wedge between her brother and his young wife? Something made her run. And once she was gone they could make up any story they liked about her. Attempted murder included.” He played idly with a spill of tea on the table. “We’re staying for dinner, apparently. What do you want to do now?”

  Ben was watching Philipa striding away through the garden with the dogs. He rose from his seat and straddled Nikolas. “I don’t suppose a game of billiards is on the cards—for old time’s sake?”

  § § §

  Ben didn’t get to play billiards. He was taken out riding instead. It was cold and turning frosty, but there was still an hour of weak afternoon sun left when they set off. Instead of turning down to the beach, Nikolas went up into the woods. Ben felt stiff and awkward. He hadn’t ridden for a couple of years, but it was good to be back in the saddle. He had a lot of interesting memories of rides with Nikolas Mikkelsen. “We were on these horses the first time I kissed you.”

  Nikolas glanced over. “I remember.”

  Ben smiled. “It was like squeezing blood out of stone, getting you to admit how you felt.”

  “It’s just as well you were as annoyingly persistent then as you are now.” They came out of the woods into a clearing at the top of the hill. There was a small folly, a mock Grecian temple. Nikolas dismounted and tied his horse to the pillar and went up the steps. Ben followed. He could see right across the woods and almost into the next county. It was a good spot for a folly. When he got inside, Nikolas snagged his jacket and pulled him close. “How are you feeling?”

  Ben smiled shyly. “Yeah. Sorry about earlier. I was feeling really crappy this morning, like I’d taken something, you know?” He smirked. “And I know you do know how that feels.”

  Nikolas pouted. “I had issues.”

  Ben stroked Nikolas’s hair off his forehead. “I’d never do that—take drugs. It’s not me. I like being fit and healthy too much.”

  “I know, which is why I was worried. You were strung out.” Apparently remembering Ben’s previous reaction to this observation he added quickly, “But you’re better now. Nice and fit.” He slid a hand into Ben’s shirt. His hands were icy from the ride, Ben winced and shied away but another cold hand slid in to hold him still. “Kiss me again. See if you can wring anything out of me this time.”

  Ben did. He nibbled softly at Nikolas’s lower lip, just teasing him, promising more. Then he suddenly cupped his face and opened his mouth wide over Nikolas’s, finding his tongue, tasting him, grinding their mouths almost painfully together. Nikolas’s hands were warming up on Ben’s belly and chest, roaming around on his smooth skin. His thumbs found Ben’s nipples and grazed them with a nail, causing Ben to suck in his breath against Nikolas’s lips. The kiss deepened. Nikolas yanked Ben harder, pulling them close so he could feel Ben’s hardness against his own. Apparently, it wasn’t enough, so he walked him back against a wall. Ben lifted one leg just a little, and they ground together as they kissed. Still more seemed needed. Nikolas flung Ben around against the wall. Ben groaned, spreading his legs as Nikolas bared him just enough for access, ripping down his own zip, fumbling with anticipation despite the number of times and ways they’d done this. It was always new, always different and always so, so good.

  § § §

  Nikolas hissed through his teeth at the sensation of sinking deep into his favourite person. Ben twisted around, and they kissed as Nikolas went deep, then eased out, then deep again. It wouldn’t take long. He ran his fingernails up Ben’s back, under his shirt, scratching him, marking him. Ben arched back and hissed at the pleasure of the pain. Nikolas buried his nose deep into Ben’s hair and felt his body peak. He shuddered into the tightness, knew Ben was sorting himself and ran his nails back down, just to complete the job of stamping his ownership upon him.

  § § §

  They always slightly regretted the outside sex when the tidying-up part came. Ben was thoroughly dishevelled; Nikolas knew he looked like a man who’d done exactly what he just had—fucked his boyfriend against a wall. He hoped they could pass as having been riding hard for an hour—which in a way they had—and they returned, slightly sheepishly but very satisfied, to the stables.

  Dinner that night was an intimate affair, just the three of them. Philipa had even given her staff the night off, so they served themselves and talked freely without the constant awareness of being overheard. Nikolas told several versions of the story of how he’d got the scars on his nose and cheekbone, none of which bore any relation to the truth, and Ben was persuaded to lower his trousers and show Philipa his impressive thigh scar. She seemed very interested in this and gave it a close examination, much to Nikolas’s amusement. She was also extremely interested in ANGEL and wanted to know a lot about their projects. It was very late when they finally rose from the table. She offered for them to stay the night, but Nikolas wanted to get going. She told him not to be such a stranger in future and included Ben in this open invitation.

  As they were driving toward the gates, Nikolas glanced at his watch. “I’ll drop you back at the house, but then I must leave.”

  Ben swivelled in his seat to face him. “I’m coming with you. Back to London.”

  Nikolas pulled over and turned to him as well. Ben tipped his head to one side, a disarming gesture that made Nikolas smile. Ben returned his smile, not understanding its provenance but enjoying it anyway. “I’m sorry. I seem to have spent my entire life apologising to you. But this is the dumbest I’ve ever been. I don’t know what I thought I’d have there, but it definitely wasn’t what I found. Bloody hell, why don’t you just, I don’t know, lock me up or something? Put me on a bloody leash and stop me being so stupid.”

  Nikolas tapped Ben’s nose. “Trust me, I’ve thought about it once or twice over the last few weeks. But I’ve not helped, maybe. Perhaps we should have told them how it stood with us. Perhaps honesty is always the best policy. It’s a tenet I’ve always tried to live—” He rubbed his arm where Ben had punched it. Amused, he observed, “That was uncalled for.” Then he hit Ben back, and all was well with them at last on the long drive back to London.

&n
bsp; § § §

  Ben couldn’t believe how pleased he was to be home. Radulf was staying with Tim, so the house seemed a little empty, but other than that it was bliss. As he lay entangled with Nikolas, more one body than two, it was incredible to him he’d ever voluntarily spent a single night apart. It was a mistake he intended to rectify.

  Waking up at lunchtime was extremely pleasant. It reinforced their awareness of the true beauty of their lives—they only really played at anything they did, other than being together, which was their true focus and indulgence. They indulged themselves for most of the rest of the daylight hours. When they were too stiff and sore to play anymore they got up and slouched down to the television to watch some movies and eat. Tim called around to return Radulf, and then Squeezy turned up with his uncanny ability to detect when free food was being offered. Nikolas had long gotten past his reluctance to be seen touching Ben in front of either of these two men, and there was always a great deal of touching now. Ben knew Nikolas only did it to drive Squeezy insane with envy. Apparently, according to Nik, Squeezy was almost as much fun to annoy as he was.

  As Ben lay in Nikolas’s arms on the couch, listening to his friends, idly scratching Radulf’s ear as he lay upside down on their legs, he felt a profound sense of peace come over him. If he could, he would have stopped time right there and then, keeping everything frozen just as it was.

  His phone rang, the moment passed, and the future intruded and changed everything.

  It was John. He wanted to know why Ben hadn’t turned up at the county court. Ben winced and extracted himself from Nikolas, gesturing to the phone and then the kitchen. Nikolas nodded.

  When he reached the kitchen, Ben switched the phone to his other ear. “Sorry. It was work. I had to come back to London.”

  “Well, okay, but reschedule, yeah? We need you here, Ben. Come on, man, we’re dying down here. Nowhere to par-tee.”

  “I’ve changed my mind, John. About the name thing anyway. I’ll be in London at least until the spring. Maybe we can meet up here?”

  “Yeah, sure thing, Ben.” The phone was clicked off. Ben stared at the handset for a while then went back to the living room. Squeezy had apparently convinced Nikolas that he’d enjoy watching Hostel, so he took his place back between Nikolas’s outstretched legs, wrapped in his arms, and decided he’d think about the damn Redvers situation tomorrow.

  § § §

  Nikolas had enjoyed the film, in his own peculiar way. Perhaps being an ex-torturer, he wasn’t the best person to watch such things, but it made for some interesting situations for Ben later. So much so Nikolas forgot to ask about the call until the morning, and when he did, he was surprised by his own response. He wanted Ben to return to the house at Horse Tor and do things properly: say proper farewells, shut the house up securely and then come back. He didn’t say directly to Ben that what he was doing was running away, but he implied it by pointing out how things should be done. Ben had started to argue, but Nikolas knew he couldn’t. It was true. Ben had panicked. Being at Philipa’s had been so restful and so familiar for him, he’d obviously just taken the easy option and returned to London. Nikolas had known this when Ben had told him in the car, but sometimes Nikolas used the common sense he’d been born with and didn’t attempt to curb Ben’s enthusiasms at two o’clock in the morning in a vehicle.

  Ben pouted, fussed and made a big deal of it, but eventually he agreed.

  Another night or two apart…

  What harm could that do?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Three days later, Ben was back at the house. It was the middle of December. A cold snap had come down from Greenland, and the place was white with frost. The house was freezing, and he was glad he wasn’t staying in it but at the hotel where he’d stayed with Nikolas. He hadn’t booked the thousand-pound-a-night suite though. He wasn’t that far removed from his true roots yet.

  He arranged for the electricity to be cut off and the phone line he’d so recently had installed to be disconnected. Before he lost it, he called Camilla and told her of his decision to shut the house up and return to London. She avowed she fully understood. Ben put the phone down, unconvinced by her sincerity. There had been an undertone. An hour later, John arrived. Clearly, he’d been informed. Ben wasn’t looking forward to the confrontation as he watched the car pulling up at the front doors. He went out to meet him and was surprised to get a hug, a punch and a back slap.

  John grinned at him. “Hey, I’m a bastard. Sorry about the abrupt phone call the other day. Came as a surprise, that’s all. Ash is already planning Christmas parties in London, so it’s cool. So, looky what I’ve got.” He opened the boot of the car, and Ben saw a new board. John clearly wasn’t impressed by his reaction. “Shit, man, come on, look! It’s a Pod. It flies. Seriously good board. You coming?”

  “What? No, I’ve got—”

  “Benjamin, you’ve got shit all to do but come and hit some waves! It’s awesome out there today.”

  Ben wouldn’t call the day an awesome one for going surfing. It was freezing, and he had a lot to do, but he could see what John was trying to do—say a farewell in his way and give him a memorable last day. He nodded and John punched the air in triumph.

  § § §

  John had wanted to go to a beach he’d never been to before. Holecombe, apparently, was new on the scene, exclusive and not yet popular with anyone other than pro-surfers. The waves were supposed to be very challenging, especially in December. John joked his new board needed the challenge. Ben liked anything physically challenging so he navigated, John drove, and they reached the beach just after lunch. Not surprisingly, there were only a handful of surfers already out in the waves, paddling around.

  Ben and John donned their suits and jogged down to the water’s edge. Ben was glad he’d agreed to go. In a 6/4mm full body suit, he was warm, and the waves were spectacular. They plunged in and paddled out beyond the line of surf to acclimatise and say hello to the other surfers. They caught wave after wave. Ben went under many times and was exhausted after a couple of hours. They broke off and sat on the beach, watching the other surfers. John had brought him some tea and a thermos of coffee for himself. Ben began to relax and unwind. He knew he’d miss this. But it didn’t seem he could have both. He’d been dumb to think he could. He turned to John to see him anxiously glancing at his watch. “You got to get back?”

  John shook his head. “Nah, just got some business crap in my head.”

  “Where’s Natasha today? I haven’t told her yet I’m moving back up to London.”

  “She’s got something on. She knows.”

  “How did she take it?”

  “She’s cool, Ben. I told you; she’s planning parties in London for us. She’s always cool. You coming in again?”

  The light was going. The other surfers were packing up. Ben shook his head. “Too late now. Let’s get back. I’ll treat you to fish and chips on the way home.”

  “Generous bastard. I’m going in once more. Catch the big one. Come on.”

  Ben shook his head. “It’s getting dark, John. It’s too dangerous. Let’s go.” He stood to strip out of his suit, but John grabbed his new board and headed back down to the surf. Ben shouted impatiently after him then sat back down to watch and wait. He thought about getting into the car and turning the heating on, but, hell, he was SAS. He smiled to himself at this thought. He’d asked Nikolas if he’d wanted to come with him once, and Nikolas had retorted, “Spetsnaz don’t surf.” He narrowed his eyes, trying to follow John in the water. It was hard now, the darkness swiftly approaching. He felt a twinge of alarm and stood up. John was a long way out. He appeared to be trying to come in, but wasn’t making any progress. Ben’s heart suddenly seized. Rip. Fuck. John was caught in a rip. He grabbed his board and ran into the waves. The dumb bastard was trying to paddle straight back in, and he couldn’t fight the rip. Ben watched him get thrown off his board as a wave caught him. Ben suddenly found himself in the same rip and
let it carry him out. It was fast and incredibly strong. He cursed himself for their stupidity. They’d broken every rule in the book: don’t surf beaches you don’t know; don’t surf alone. He could add don’t surf with a cokehead douchebag, but that was just his new, personal rule.

  He reached John who was hanging onto his board. He didn’t look like he had the strength to pull himself back on. Ben took a wave badly and swallowed water. It was hard to speak over the noise. He shouted at John to follow him and began to paddle parallel to the shore to escape the rip. He turned, but John wasn’t following him. He was trying to swim in again, the shortest route, but against the rip. He went under. Ben cursed and tried to turn, but a wave then caught him side on, and he came up without his board. Now he had no floatation, and the waves were tossing him around like a cork. He swam back to where he’d seen John and could feel the power of the water again. The beach was a very long way away now. He shouted, took another mouthful of water. The waves were enormous, and it was dark. With the last of his strength, he began to swim slowly on his back, conserving energy, along the line of the shore. He didn’t begin to feel free of the rip for about half a mile. It was the longest swim of his life. Finally, he could turn and let the waves carry him to the shore. He emerged out of the surf feeling as though he’d been put on rinse cycle. Nothing in his body worked properly. He staggered to his clothes and dug out his phone. His hands were shaking so badly, he could hardly dial.

  § § §

  An impressive number of people tried to find John long into the night. A lifeboat was launched and a rescue helicopter with a searchlight scoured the area for hours. Ben was taken to hospital and treated for mild hypothermia exacerbated by shock. Ben didn’t know how he was going to tell Natasha and Camilla. He was desperate to call Nikolas, but every time he had the phone in his hand to dial, he hesitated. He knew what would happen. Nikolas would insist he return to London. He’d doubt Ben’s emotional stability. And Ben knew he’d given Nikolas reason to fear this in the past. He needed to stay here and help. If he called Nikolas, he’d be brought home and everything would be taken out of his hands. Nikolas would organise and solve and save. It was what he did. But Ben needed to do this for himself. He needed to face it. He’d killed John. This was his responsibility. He knew better than to break the cardinal rules of personal safety. And when push came to shove, he’d not been strong enough to save him. So he didn’t call Nikolas. He punished himself by denying the love and support he desperately wanted.