The Highwayman Came Riding

by Qeturah Edeli

  Elias leaned on his broom again and raised a foot, wiggling his toes. “I feel for dust,” he explained, using his trouser legs to brush off some that had accumulated on his soles, then set to sweeping again.

  “That’s amazing.”

  “It’s really not.”

  “If you’re not careful, you’ll sweep me off my feet.”

  Elias snorted, then heard Augustus approach and come to stand beside him.

  “I’m just going to touch your lips,” Augustus murmured. “I’ve been thinking about them for two days now.”

  Elias stood still as Augustus traced the border of his mouth, then slipped a finger between Elias’s lips. Surprised, Elias let the finger slide inside to the middle knuckle. Without forethought, he sucked on it.

  “Shit,” Augustus muttered, and before Elias knew what was happening, he was sitting upright on a table, Augustus was standing between his legs, and they were kissing on the mouth. Augustus put his hands on Elias’s waist and drew him to the edge of the table. The pressure on the insides of Elias’s thighs increased.

  “You make me so warm,” Augustus said into Elias’s jaw.

  “Don’t get used to being between my legs,” Elias countered. It was something Bess would say, and he could not be sure whether it was relevant to the sort of activities he might enjoy with Augustus.

  Augustus’s laugh tickled Elias’s ear. “We’ll see.”

  They kissed again, and Elias felt like the world washed away and time ceased to pass as he draped his arms over Augustus’s shoulders and leaned into him. Elias’s heart was beating alla breve.

  “You know, I think you’re getting better at this,” Elias whispered.

  “I’m getting better?” Augustus demanded, tearing his lips away. He still held Elias’s hips.

  “Mhm. You’re not as chompy as before.”

  “Chompy!”

  “Yes.” Elias smirked.

  “You’re impossible, do you know that?”

  “Nothing’s impossible.”

  Augustus slipped his hands from Elias’s hips to his ass. “Good to know.”

  “Now, now, be a gentleman,” Elias directed Augustus’s hands back to his hips.

  “I’m a highwayman, not a gentleman.”

  “That’s not what you told me—” Augustus smothered Elias’s protestations with another kiss.

  Without warning, the front door to the tavern swung open. “Fuck,” Augustus muttered, and then he was not touching Elias anymore. Elias felt cold.

  “Who’s there?” Elias demanded.

  “Is this your new beau?” Bess exclaimed from across the tavern. The door slammed shut behind her. “Well done. He’s got the wealthy look about him,” she said as she neared, her skirts swishing. “Good breeding, excellent posture, and enough of the bitch in his expression he might just be a match for you.”

  “Who’s this?” Augustus said, indignant. He must not have even noticed Bess the other night. “She looks like—”

  “Bess,” Elias said.

  “Your eyes?” Augustus asked.

  “My twin.”

  “Bloody hell, there are two of you?”

  “If only you were so lucky,” Bess snapped, coming to stand by Elias. She set the post on the table behind him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “You’d like it if I were a man, wouldn’t you?”

  Augustus, apparently stunned into silence, said nothing.

  “It’s fine, it’s not like I didn’t just see you exchanging spit with my brother,” Bess said. “Trust me, I’m not going to snitch. Though who would care about your escapades, I can’t fathom.”

  “Thank you, Miss Burgess, I am indebted—”

  “Stow the pretty talk, toff. If you’re so fond of Elias, I assume you can handle a little fuck here and there.”

  “I think I need to sit down.” The chair beside Elias’s dangling bare foot squeaked under Augustus’s weight. “Uncanny…bizarre,” he muttered, breathless.

  “I wish I knew what we looked like,” Elias said to Bess. “This is quite a reaction.”

  “Do you think he’s reevaluating his sexual interests right now?” Bess asked.

  “Sounds like it.”

  “He’s pretty enough that if things don’t work out between you two, I’d give this lover boy a try,” Bess said.

  “So he wasn’t lying?” Elias asked.

  “Do you mean to say lover boy told you he’s pretty?” Bess snickered.

  “I think he used the word ‘handsome.’”

  “Oh no, he’s pretty, trust me.”

  “I’m right here, you know!” Augustus snarled. He had regained his breath.

  “Yes, dear, I can see you,” Bess purred. “Do you like women?”

  “Paws off,” Elias snapped.

  “No,” Augustus replied. “But you did confuse me for half a second. Eli, you’d look stunning in a dress.”

  “I trip enough in trousers as it is. Dream on, lover boy.”

  “So, lover boy, what are your intentions with my brother?” Bess asked.

  “Bess!” Elias howled, mortified.

  “What? I’m just looking out for my baby brother.”

  “I’d like to court him, kiss him, cavort with him, that sort of thing,” Augustus said.

  Elias’s face was on fire. “Must we discuss this?”

  “In that order, lover boy?” Bess demanded.

  “Well, we’ve already kissed.”

  “Tut tut, where are your manners?”

  “I do apologize.”

  “I don’t even know your name.”

  Augustus made a rustling sound, as though he was straightening his cravat as he stood. “Augustus Westwood, Miss Burgess, at your service.”

  “Westwood?” Elias barked. “God, you are well to do! How on earth did we come to meet?” He did not want Bess to know Augustus and the highwayman were one and the same. Bess would never accept him if she knew.

  “A thing of the past, I assure you.” Augustus took Elias’s hand, and Elias’s stomach fluttered with excitement. The subtle tremble swelled to a frenzy when Augustus kissed his knuckles. “I’ll be a perfect gentleman to your baby brother, worry not, Miss Burgess.”

  “Ugh,” Elias said, yanking his hand away. “I don’t know why I tolerate you.”

  “Well, it’s not because you think I’m pretty, that’s for sure.”

  “Damn right you are.”

  “I like this one,” Bess interrupted them. She gathered the post from where she had deposited it.

  “Someone’s popular,” Augustus said.

  “I, like my brother it seems, have many beaux,” she said. Then, as she drifted to the bar, “He can stay.”

  Augustus remained in a stool at the bar until the end of the night, when he kissed Elias good-bye and returned to the Prissy Peacock. Elias wished he did not have to go.

  Chapter Eighteen

  It became customary for Augustus to come to the Peach and Pear in the afternoon and remain until the end of the night. Bess, whom Elias knew kept a fast eye on them both, grew accustomed to Augustus’s presence, and Augustus grew accustomed to hearing a young woman curse like a sailor. Augustus rarely ordered drinks, instead opting for meals and desserts. Elias knew Bess was taken with Augustus from the way she made him anything he requested. Bess and Augustus bantered on occasion, but most of the banter during these periods occurred between Elias and Augustus.

  Elias loved sparring with Augustus. It made his heart pound and his stomach ache, but in the best way. He could banter for hours, starting the minute Augustus walked through the door and ending when Augustus took his leave. When Augustus was not around, Elias, who was usually so spontaneous with his witticisms, planned snarky comments in preparation for Augustus’s arrival. He choreographed kisses in his head, though they never turned out as planned (something that did not bother him). He tried to imagine how a man with a name like Augustus Westwood had wound up living at the Prissy Peacock and courting the likes of one such as Elias
Burgess.

  Early one morning, when Elias was behind the bar and still drying glasses from the previous evening, the front door to the tavern swished open in a rattling of dry leaves and clicking boots.

  “Eli. Good morning.”

  Elias almost dropped the pint glass he was holding. Lord Nelson, who was behind the bar, chirruped in surprise at the sound of Augustus’s voice and padded off in his direction.

  “Augustus?” Augustus always slept in. Elias knew this was a very gentlemanly thing to do.

  “The one and only.”

  “I didn’t see you come in.”

  Augustus gave a snort of laughter. “Nice one. Oh, good morning, my lord,” he said, sounding surprised as he apparently greeted Lord Nelson. “Ow! Fuck!”

  “Did you try to pet him?” Elias asked innocently.

  “Yes! Ugh, I’m sending him out.”

  Elias put the glass on the bar in front of him with its fellows. He leaned on the bar. “What’re you doing here at this hour?” he asked, once the front door had slammed after Lord Nelson. “Don’t you need your beauty rest?”

  “I’ve been getting up early lately. Sunrises are growing on me.”

  “They feel nice.” Elias had learned to love them as a post boy in the winter, for they were warm and not as screaming loud as high noon.

  “They do. I like to watch them. They’re very pretty.”

  “What’re they like?”

  “Well, I don’t know how to explain it. I suppose, if I were to liken a sunrise to sound, or texture, it would be a smooth symphony? Every sunrise is different, but there’s always this moment of crescendo, you know? When the sky graduates from a single violin to a quartet, to a chamber orchestra, to an orchestra, to the symphony of midday… And it’s all so paced, you know what’s going to happen, but it’s different every time. You don’t know when each new instrument will begin to play. It’s a new variant of a beloved piece every morning.”

  It took Elias a moment to realize he was holding his breath.

  “You look stunned,” Augustus murmured. He must be leaning over the bar, for his voice was close to Elias’s face. “I’m going to kiss you now.”

  Augustus took Elias’s face in his hands and kissed him lightly on the lips. Elias had to lean on the bar to keep from crumpling to the floor.

  “I’ve had a letter, and it’s good news,” Augustus said.

  “What was it about?”

  “All in due course. I’d like to celebrate. Half a tumbler of your oldest whiskey if you please, Mr. Burgess.” His accent was as affected as Elias had ever heard it.

  Elias felt woozy. “That’s fucking expensive. It’s a 1742.”

  “I don’t care. My order remains the same.”

  “Are you sure?” Elias asked, finally starting to feel more himself. “I know where you’re staying. You can’t escape with a tab.”

  “Just get me the damn drink, barkeep, and maybe you’ll get the tip.”

  “The tip?” Elias demanded. “You only have one?”

  “I haven’t met anyone with more than one.”

  Elias hated being unable to follow someone’s train of thought. He was the witty one, damn it! And he disliked feeling vulnerable, let alone twice over the course of a minute. “I don’t think we’re talking about the same thing.”

  “No, we probably aren’t.”

  “I’m confused.” He would rather have cut off his own finger than admit this to anyone but Augustus.

  “Don’t worry about it, doll. You’ll know someday.”

  “Doll,” Elias muttered as he set off in search of Augustus’s order. He was not as angry as he ought to have been.

  When he brought Augustus his whiskey, he set it down on the bar, balancing it with care. “Enjoy.”

  Augustus brushed his fingers as he took the tumbler from him. “Thanks.”

  * * * *

  Augustus left by noon, and Elias did not hear from him all evening. Long after the last patron had left and Elias had retired to bed, he lay awake and thought about what news Augustus could possibly have received by letter that led him to indulge in expensive alcohol and not return to the Peach and Pear in the afternoon as he had for several weeks now.

  As he continued to mull this over ad nauseam, there was a sharp rapping on the shutters. Elias sat bolt upright in bed, upsetting Lord Nelson, who mewed grumpily. Across the room, Bess tossed and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “Horny sod”. Elias rose and went to the window, hesitated, then opened the shutters.

  “Good night, Eli.” It was Augustus. He sounded very close, not like he was calling up two floors.

  “How did you get so tall?” Elias asked. His hands were shaking where they held the shutters’ clasp. He had not realized how much he had missed Augustus’s presence earlier until now.

  “I’m standing upright in my horse’s stirrups. It’s not the most comfortable position. Won’t you at least reward me for my efforts?”

  Elias leaned out the window, reaching. Augustus grazed his fingertips. Elias retracted his hand.

  “Is that all?” Augustus demanded.

  “You’re welcome.”

  “You’re not even going to let me kiss you?”

  “No.”

  Augustus sighed. “I was hoping you’d give me luck. I’m going hunting.”

  The Burgess family’s food was bought at the market, and no one trusted Elias with firearms. “What’s in season?”

  “That which is in all seasons. I’m after a prize.”

  “Oh.” Elias stood straight and held on to the window frame for support. So that was what had been in the letter. No wonder Augustus had splurged. Elias felt disappointment flood through him like a poison.

  “You don’t approve?” Augustus asked, his voice measured.

  “As one who has been held up on multiple occasions, I can’t say I’d wish it upon anyone else.” Was he jealous? Again? How absurd.

  “Even if I use the gold to buy you a new outfit?”

  Elias considered. “Even then.”

  “Oh.”

  “I prefer honest men.” Did he? Mr. Sweeton was honest, kind of, and he was boring. And a bit scary. Elias now knew what he had felt with Mr. Sweeton was closer to fear than it was to anything else. He could tell because what he felt with Augustus was different. And part of that difference was feeling safe.

  “Sorry, I’m not that kind of man. But you knew that from the moment we met.”

  Why was Augustus being like this? Elias yawned and scratched his scalp, trying to appear disinterested. “How’d you reach to knock on the shutters?”

  “Used my whip.”

  “Ah.” He yawned again. “I’m going back to bed. Don’t get shot and don’t get caught.”

  “Is that all you have to say?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll be thinking of you.”

  “Disgusting.” Elias shut the shutters and crawled back into bed. As far as he could tell, Bess was asleep. He did not sleep the rest of the night.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Augustus did not return for four days. Elias was testy during this time, keeping an ear open for any news about robberies or the arrest or killing of a highwayman in the area. He tried to be as nonchalant as possible when he asked probing questions, steadying his worried hands by burying them in his apron pockets. He scarcely slept at night for he started at any sound, thinking of whips on shutters, and even Bess seemed worried.

  “Your beau hasn’t been round for a few days,” she said on the third day.

  “Not my beau,” Elias replied. Had he been too short with Augustus when they last spoke? Too aloof? But that was how he always was with Augustus, and he had never had a problem with it before.

  On the morning of the fourth day after Augustus’s last visit, Elias stumbled from bed feeling foggy-brained and anxious yet again. The anxiety did not abate until midafternoon, when Augustus wandered into the Peach and Pear.

  “Oi, your beau’s back,”
Bess muttered. She was tidying behind the bar while Elias sat at a table in the middle of the room, Lord Nelson in his lap. Elias had fiddled with his hair ribbon for hours and tried to think about anything but a certain highwayman.

  “Not my beau,” he snapped, sitting up straighter.

  “Good afternoon, Eli. Miss Burgess. My lord.” Just the sound of Augustus’s voice made Elias ache.

  “So you heeded my advice,” Elias said, trying to sound offhand.

  “It was good advice,” Augustus said, sliding into the stool next to Elias. He seemed to have inferred Bess did not know he was a criminal.

  “Damn right.” Elias let his frayed ribbon be.

  Augustus touched his knee. Surprisingly, Lord Nelson did not swat him. “You look well-rested.”

  Elias jerked his knee away and gave a reproachful sniff as Lord Nelson jumped to the floor and stalked away. Elias knew sarcasm when he heard it, even if it was whispered in a tender voice.

  “I was interrupted by a most annoying midnight bird a few nights ago,” he said, as Bess was within earshot. “It disrupted my sound sleep and I just couldn’t get comfortable after that. Threw my sleep off all week.”

  “A bird, you say?” There was amusement in Augustus’s voice.

  “Yes. Obnoxious thing. Wouldn’t stop cawing.”

  “I’m sorry to hear a beast worried you all night long for so many nights.”

  “I did not say it worried me.”

  Augustus touched Elias’s sleeve, then slid his hand up Elias’s arm, across his shoulder, over his jaw, and to the soft skin right under his eye. Elias did not think to swat him away. “You’ve got bags.”

  Elias felt dizzy. He had forgotten to breathe. He coughed, turning his head away.

  “I’ll sleep better tonight,” he mumbled.

  “I do hope so. I bet you’re a pretty sleeper.”

  “A pretty sound sleeper when the birds aren’t making a fucking racket, I should say.”

  Augustus let his hand fall. “I have a feeling they’ll be quiet tonight.” He sounded apologetic.

  “Good. Here’s hoping they stay in their bloody nests.”

  The floor creaked. “All right, lover boy,” Bess said. “We need to talk.”