"Ben!" His father Derek's shout snapped Ben from his misery. "Lyle's been on the phone again."
Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.
"For Gods' sake, Ben, you've got to talk to him. Whatever you've done, he doesn't care anymore. He just wants to see you."
Ben shook his head. "I can't, Dad. I'm sorry."
"Ben—"
"Please? I'm doing this because it's for the best. You've got to understand that."
Derek disappeared back into the cottage, and the frog hopped along the rim of the well, landing dangerously near the precipice. Ben froze, stricken with fear for the little creature, which then jumped the opposite direction into the flowerbed and lolloped back toward the fishpond.
Ben was glad he'd not intervened. Life was better when he let the flow of time take him. He couldn't screw it up so badly this way.
He cringed as he heard the back door open again then slam. His dad came storming up the garden path, crunching on the gravel.
"This is getting ridiculous," said Derek. "Lyle called again. You've got to get off your arse and speak to him. And aren't you supposed to be starting a new job soon? Shouldn't you find somewhere to live?"
Ben inhaled the mingled scents of lavender and compost, trying to stop his fluttering panic taking flight. "I've decided to turn the job down. I'm not sure I can face it right now."
"I see," said Derek, and Ben hoped his father would return to his baking and leave it at that. Instead, Derek sat down beside him on the edge of the well. "You used to sit here for hours when you were a kid. We used to wonder what you were thinking about."
"Not much," muttered Ben, although that wasn't true. He'd been daydreaming about fairy-tale worlds, about knights, dragons, and beautiful princes. He'd sat here for so long in recent days, he'd begun to wonder if the last year of his life had been a fantasy too. If so, daydreams had never hurt this much before.
"You're thirty-one years old now, Ben. You can't sit on the ledge of the well forever."
Ben nearly told his dad that it was high time he jumped into the well, though that would just make him appear all the more wretched. "I am such a fool," he said. "I had everything, and I threw it all away. I don't deserve him. I never did, and I never will, and now he's… he's…"
"The only thing ailing Lyle is his desperation to be with you," said Derek. "That was something he specifically wanted me to say, if I happened to see you. If you don't go back to him, he'll come and find you. I hate telling him you're not here, especially as I've a feeling he's seen through my lies."
The prospect of having to face Lyle finally pushed Ben toward decisiveness. "He mustn't find me, here or anywhere. I'll call Janine later today and turn the job down once and for all. Then I'll find somewhere new to live. I'll leave."
Derek puffed out his cheeks with obvious exasperation, got up, and walked away. Ben managed not to think about Lyle for approximately thirty seconds in the next hour or so, before his father came into the garden again.
"I'm walking Mrs Palfrey's dog while she's recovering from her knee operation," said Derek. "Do you want to come?"
Ben shook his head.
"I'll rephrase that," said Derek. "Seeing as you're sitting where your ten-year-old self did, I'm going to talk to you like you're still him. You are getting off your arse and walking this dog with me. Okay?"
"Okay," said Ben, wincing at the cramping in his thigh as he got up. It was time to move on, if nothing else. "When we get back, I'll pack and leave you and mum in peace."
*~*~*
Alarm bells rang in Ben's head well before Derek pulled into the newly resurfaced carpark at Shanty Wood.
"Why here?" asked Ben. Derek knew the saga concerning how Ben and Lyle had met, so surely he'd guessed how painful this must be. "Can't we go to Oakey Dell to see how they're getting on with the treetop walkway, or that nice spot by the river up the road?"
"Sorry." Derek sounded genuinely contrite as he went to let the dog, a white poodle called Flossie, out of the rear of the hatchback. "This is Flossie's favourite spot," he said, fastening a lead onto the excited and noisily panting dog's pink collar. "Mrs Palfrey was anxious we took her to a place she knew well, so she shouldn't get too stressed about having new people walk her."
Derek scratched the backs of Flossie's furry ears. Flossie jumped down from the boot, wagging her tail like a dynamo. She looked about as unstressed a being as Ben had ever seen. Ben followed his dad and the jaunty dog across the carpark toward… Oh, great. Derek chose the path that led straight toward the once-enchanted ruin where he'd met Lyle.
"Why this way?" said Ben, levelling at Derek's side. "Are you trying to kill me?"
"Not at all," replied Derek, with a bland air Ben trusted less by the second. "This is the only path that your old gang at the environmental office have repaired yet. After all the rain this spring, the other tracks will be so muddy we'll have a brown poodle rather than a white one."
At first, Ben didn't buy it. Following his dad and Flossie, he suspected something was afoot. But as his thoughts filled with memories as wonderful and happy as they were overwhelming and painful, he decided not to trust his misgivings either.
Lyle wouldn't be here, surely. He couldn't travel so far inland alone… and heck, Ben didn't want Lyle to be here. Ben refused his desperate hopes, glaring down at the newly laid boardwalk. His longing ground him down until he slowed to a dreary stumble.
He missed Lyle so much. He couldn't live out his life without the other half of his soul, yet he'd no choice but to do so. Even if he could forgive himself enough to be with Lyle, thanks to Ben's horrible mistakes, Lyle wouldn't last much longer.
Realizing he'd long since stopped walking, let alone paying attention to his environs, Ben looked up. Derek and the dog had gone on ahead, leaving Ben alone. A single glance around confirmed exactly where he was. Beneath the blanched sky, he discerned the top of Lyle's tower, its bricks jagged and broken by Lyle's storm the year before. Ben waded through the bracken toward it.
He recalled his last moments here, when they'd broken the curse and magic had carried Lyle far, far away. Then, the emptiness in his heart had told him Lyle was gone, that all enchantment had fled this place. He'd relived that emptiness these past few days, had accepted it as a constant companion—a companion that deserted him now, as his senses began to tingle.
Reaching the tower, he looked toward the pines, gasping air as if he'd been sprinting. But no, he was deluding himself, kindling false hopes. Lyle wasn't here, and he'd best find Derek before he drove himself mad with misery.
"You took your time, hazard man," said a disembodied voice from somewhere nearby.
"Dad, how could you?" muttered Ben.
He turned around slowly, each hair on the back his neck standing on end. Lyle stepped out from behind the tower. He was clad in tight-fitting black trousers and an equally snug sweater, adapted to allow his fins to roam free. His sleek hair was arranged neatly, and a red scarf, which he'd obviously removed recently, was dangling out of a side pocket.
"Are you going to say hello?" The laughter iridescent in Lyle's eyes belied his faintly snappy tone. "Or are you going to gawp at me till you've swallowed every fly in the forest?"
"Lyle… I… oh shit." Ben stumbled forward through ferns, nearly tripping twice before he tumbled into Lyle's arms. "I… I'm so, so sorry."
"Please don't be sorry," said Lyle. "It's the last thing I want to hear."
Chapter Fourteen
Ben buried his face in Lyle's neck, drowning in that familiar sweet and briny musk he'd missed so much. Lyle's wondrous fins glided up his back, briefly fooling Ben into believing he could stay wrapped in them forever. He could not. He must not.
"What else can I say but sorry?" whispered Ben. "It's all I've got left to—"
"Ssssh, stop it." The harsh edge to Lyle's admonishment set Ben biting back another apology. He looked up. Lyle didn't appear irritated, merely resolute. "No more apologies," said Lyle. "I'm bored of them already. E
ven if there was anything to forgive—which, incidentally, there isn't—I would forgive you, Ben. However, I don't need to."
"But—"
Lyle pressed cool fingertips to Ben's lips. Despite all Ben's resistance, the intimate contact of Lyle's flesh after too long apart sent a frisson of excitement through him.
"Those bad things you did. That wasn't you. That wasn't the man I fell in love with." Lyle cupped Ben's cheek, prompting Ben's gaze to meet his. "Cully and I worked it all out. When he was old and fading, Clewell hid his life-force in the sword and crafted a web of enchantment—including the prophecy of the Dragon Rider—to lure a suitable victim at some point in the future. Clewell wanted to snag himself a hero's body, but he didn't care about actually fulfilling the prophecy, just saving himself. You did care, however. You came up with the plan to find Kern-Heliog, and you got our family to safety, despite Clewell being in your head and twisting everything you did. A weaker man would've given in to his machinations sooner."
All of this made sense to Ben, who'd come to similar conclusions during his many hours brooding. It still felt like a convenient excuse. "It's no good, Lyle. I was too weak. I got the merest whiff of power over you and I abused it to hell. I abused you. Clewell might've been urging me on, but there was still plenty of me in there. How could I trust myself not to treat you like that again? Especially now." Ben closed his eyes, struggling to say what he had to. "Now that you're—"
The speed of Lyle's movement was surpassed only by the ferociousness of the kiss. It proved show-stopping enough to silence Ben's thoughts as thoroughly as it did his words. When Lyle finally broke away, Ben blinked up at him, dazed.
"I, uh…" Oh yes, Ben had to remind Lyle he was better off with Cully, for the sake of Lyle's health if nothing else. Although Lyle's crushing hold about Ben didn't belie frailty.
"Listen," said Lyle, shaking Ben gently. "If you can't trust yourself, fine. I trust you, I really do. There is a huge difference between the fussy git who I love looking after me, and the stranger you became with Clewell mucking you around. Clewell didn't have many healthy relationships, believe me. And if you can't forgive yourself, I'll forgive you on your behalf, no trouble. Then you can follow my fine example."
"I truly can't," said Ben.
"Can't shmant!" said Lyle with a theatrical toss of his hair, which distracted Ben disastrously. Why was Lyle so damned sexy? This was an inappropriate moment for the arousal stoked by Lyle's kiss to notch up into a semi.
"Forgiving is easy, once you've made peace with yourself. Before I met you…" Lyle's brows furrowed and he turned serious again. "I didn't know how to forgive, and I hated myself more than I believe I hated Welwyn even. But you didn’t just love me. You forgave me. You kept forgiving me. You trusted I wasn't a murderer when I didn't. When I was kidnapped, I gave up on you, but you never gave up on me." Lyle loosened his hold about Ben, and his imploring tone sharpened. "That's you, Ben. That's the man standing before me—the man who saved me and my family. You are a hero."
"But I stabbed you! You had your powers restored—the powers you were born to have—and because of me you've lost them again."
"That wasn't you. That was Clewell. And anyway, I'm grateful not to have all that nasty power." Lyle pressed his forehead down against Ben's, whose fraying efforts to counter Lyle now blended with a profound bemusement. "Maybe a ginger beer will help you understand better," suggested Lyle.
Ben didn't like to ask where the picnic laid out beside the pool they'd spent so many happy hours beside had come from. He hoped Lyle hadn't taxed himself too much magicking it up. That said, Lyle remained energetic enough, gleefully stripping off his clothes and wading into his pool, which brimmed over after all the recent rain.
"For old times' sake," said Lyle, shooting a cheeky wink over his shoulder.
Damn it. Ben was trying to tell Lyle their marriage was over. It wasn't fair for Lyle to put so much tantalizing flesh on display, especially those firm thighs and his adorably pert arse. Ben was almost relieved when Lyle submerged himself to swim, his fins splayed gracefully around him. But Lyle's words kept chipping at Ben's defensives.
"If I'd grown up that powerful, I could've ended up mean, like Clewell." Lyle floated on his back, as casual as if they were discussing the weather. He swept wet hair from his face, while Ben nibbled contemplatively on a cocktail sausage. "Even worse, if I'd not been landlocked and impaired, I'd never have met you. And while I don't deny being superhero levels of amazing felt good, that sort of strength is best left with the tides and the moon. Although, I suppose I'd have you to pull me back from the brink if it all went to my head."
Ben nearly pointed out that Lyle hadn't been able to prevent Ben acting badly. Ben had been given power and made some terrible choices. But, finally, he allowed Lyle's relentless argument to filter through. If Lyle believed Ben wouldn't have behaved like that without Clewell's influence, perhaps Ben should give himself a chance.
"Right now," Lyle was saying, "if I still had that power, I'd magic up a castle, chain you up in the dungeon, and never let you go until you saw sense."
"Maybe that's what I deserve," murmured Ben.
Lyle's devastating prettiness tied Ben's tongue and froze Ben's limbs instead. Lyle strode from the waters, his fins flowing from his slender arms and hips, his wet skin glittering. He dropped to his knees in the pine needles and took both Ben's hands in his. "Because I can't chain you up, I'm begging you instead. Come back to me. Spend the rest of your life with me, please."
"I… I want to. I still don't think deserve it, but…" Ben choked up again. Any notion they'd a future together was still a sham. "The Wise Ma says you're fading, and you'll last longer if you stay with Cully rather than me."
Lyle's snigger proved far too ebullient for Ben's battered wits. "Ah yes, Cully. We're on speaking terms again… just. She brought me here via Dragon Air, but not before we'd had the most magnificent row. I believe it accidentally caused a major landslip somewhere along the Dorset coast."
"I pity the poor soul in charge of coastal management, with you two on the rampage," said Ben, feeling cowardly for letting Lyle change the subject yet again. "What were you arguing about?"
Lyle blessed Ben with a pensive smile. "Cully held back on a pertinent detail. Yes, being landlocked damaged me. And yes, by merfolk standards, I’m dying, but I'm supposed to live a thousand years. The truth is, the Wise Ma wasn't sure how long I have left. I could easily have three, probably four or five decades in me. I'll age rapidly for my kind, and I've already spotted a few silver hairs… but you're going grey too, darling." He stroked the hair at Ben's temples and then his sideburns. "So let's grow old together, Ben. Let's live while we can. Let's fight and shout and cry and make love, let's—"
It was Ben's turn to silence Lyle with a desperate kiss. If he'd listened anymore, his heart would've exploded. That Lyle should ever fade and die made him sad, but Lyle's skewed logic made some sense. Neither of them was perfect, but this was. They were perfect, together. Although from the way Lyle was now attacking Ben's clothes with fingers and fins, Lyle clearly believed everything would be more perfect if Ben was naked as he was.
Clothing disposed of and thrown aside, the heat of their bodies counteracted the cold slap of the mud against Ben's arse and the wetness of Lyle's skin. "Baby, that feels so good," murmured Ben as Lyle's fins advanced across his bare flesh. He still worried this was happening too fast, and important things ought to be discussed before Lyle melted his brains completely. "I, uh… I'm sorry you're not going to live for centuries."
"Without you, why would I want that?" breathed Lyle. "So stop being such a drama llama and—" He broke off. Ben sensed the fins he'd missed so much retract. "Ben," whispered Lyle. "We've got a problem."
Ben raised his head, realizing Lyle had used magic to conceal his fins, and fast. A flicker of a lash later, Ben understood why. A man with a dog—unfortunately, not Derek, despite the embarrassment this would have caused—stood on the far side of th
e pool goggling at them. They gawped back, butt naked and tangled as one.
"What the hell are you two doing?" bellowed the newcomer, as if it wasn't blatantly obvious. They jumped up, grabbed their clothes and ran, leaving the remnants of the picnic scattered by the pool.
"I'm calling the police! I'll have you both sent down for indecent exposure."
"He'd get us for lewd behaviour too," Ben gasped. "Shit. At least he doesn't seem to have spotted your fins."
They sprinted through the ferns, yanking each other forward every time one or the other stumbled. Ben had known this would happen, sooner or later. They couldn't keep shagging in public places and not eventually get seen.
But he wasn't panicking. He was too busy sprinting, while laughing so hard his ribs ached. Lyle cackled just as madly. After a while, they stopped laughing and focussed on running, until it became obvious that Lyle struggled to keep pace. Ben spotted a hidden nook beneath the low-hanging boughs of a yew tree, and they tumbled to the mulch.
Lyle rested his head against Ben's chest and seemed to fall asleep. His fins had long since reappeared. Ben hugged him close, relieved when the colour returned quickly to his cheeks. After short while, Lyle pried one eyelid open, then the other, and peeped up at Ben from beneath the blur of his lashes. "That was far too much fun."
"We're getting a bit too old for this kind of fun." Ben winced. "I don't think he took a picture or anything, but that was way too close for comfort."
"You know what?" Lyle levered himself up so he could drape his arms about Ben's shoulders and peck the tip of Ben's nose. "I think you're probably right. We need to be more careful, apart from…" He waggled his brows suggestively. "Never say never, eh? Perhaps one day we'll have a garden of our own for this sort of naughtiness."
"That would be nice," said Ben. "Though I doubt we'll afford a house with a garden any time soon. I can't take the Bournemouth job now."
"Why ever not?"
"Because I wasn't myself when I went for that interview," explained Ben. "Clewell had started to influence me, so I got the job under false pretences."
The Isle of Eternal Happiness Page 10