Conscious Decisions of the Heart

by John Wiltshire

  Nikolas held out his hand then hesitated as he tried to remember which identity he’d travelled to Denmark under. “Christian Beck.”

  “Christian! Oh, sorry, I thought you must be Nikolas. You look just as he says Nik does. How strange.”

  Nikolas hesitated for a moment then conceded, “Nikolas is my middle name.”

  She nodded, pleased. “I knew it. He can’t have too many friends that match your description, can he? He mentioned you’d come from Russia unexpectedly.”

  Nikolas drew his eyes away from her bosom, which was difficult because it appeared to be trying to climb out and join him at the table. He focused on her face. She was heavily made up and appeared to think given enough application of artifice she could still be as attractive as she must have been twenty years ago. He’d place her in her late forties but reckoned she could be younger. He conceded privately he was probably not the best person to be judging these things.

  She was studying him as well. When he appeared disinclined to elucidate why he was not still in Russia, she continued, “I was surprised, you see, to see him here tonight because he cancelled our date at the last minute.” She simpered a little and waved at her bosom. “I don’t always dress like this, you know. But he moaned about something coming up unexpectedly—something awkward. That he had to go out. But I suppose he’ll tell me later.” She blushed. “He’s quite chatty after…well…”

  Nikolas sat back, assessing, thinking. Finally, at rather a loss for words, he asked, “Sorry, but who are you?”

  “Oh, has he not told you about me?” She frowned then nodded and gave him a sympathetic look. “Yes, perhaps because of the divorce. He said it’d hit you rather hard. He wouldn’t want to upset you while you’re still recovering. You know Ben.”

  “I thought I did. Told me what?”

  “Oh, we’re going to be married!” She patted her stomach and glanced around shyly. “We were hoping in the next few months—before I start to show. We weren’t expecting you to come to Aeroe, of course. He was so sure you were going to be away until December and then go straight to London. So perhaps he wasn’t going to tell you until after the ceremony?” Nikolas was now studying her even more closely. He took a swallow of wine.

  “You’re talking about Benjamin Rider? The Englishman who’s staying―”

  “With Ingrid. Yes, of course. He was here a moment ago, wasn’t he?”

  “How did you meet, did you say?”

  “Oh, we met here in Aeroeskoebing when he first arrived. He came to the market, and we just sort of clicked. I know what you’re thinking―”

  “I doubt that very much.”

  She smiled again. “Well, look, don’t worry. Ben won’t drop you as a friend—I’ll see to that, even if he did say he was getting fed up—anyway…London isn’t that far away. I must go now, but I’ll ask Ben to send you an invite to the wedding. Do say you’ll come. Are you staying on Aeroe long?”

  “I’m not sure now. I’m uncharacteristically confused.”

  “Oh. Well. Nice to meet you at last. Ben has told me so much about you.”

  “I wish I could say the same.”

  She slid out of her seat and returned to a table in the corner. After a word or two with some women there, she left.

  After another few minutes, Ben returned. He sat back in the seat Anna had recently occupied. “Where’s the coffee?”

  Nikolas gave him a winning smile. “So, you haven’t told me how you’ve reached such perfection in your Danish. You didn’t learn it all from Ingrid, surely?”

  Ben poured them both some wine and seemed surprised when Nikolas drank his straight down and poured another glass.

  “Well, I made some friends, and they’ve all helped. We ate at Alan Lund’s restaurant a lot, and he always chatted to me. But no one else particularly, why?”

  Nikolas suddenly stood. “We’re going—now.”

  He ignored Ben’s despairing glance at the dessert trolley and strode away.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The snow was quite deep now along the sides of the main road. It had been ploughed recently, but a fresh fall had already covered the black. After a few minutes, Nikolas said casually, “Give me your phone. Mine’s dead. I want to text Kate.”

  Ben handed it over. Nikolas checked Ben’s outgoing calls, three or four a day to a number on Aeroe. He debated for a moment then rang it, watching Ben. A man answered in Danish, “Hello?” He clicked it off, tapping it against his lips. He sent the number to Kate and told her to identify it for him. Within a few minutes, she texted back saying she was on holiday with her parents for Christmas and would do it when she returned to London. He deleted the message trail.

  He tossed the phone onto the dashboard. Ben glanced across again. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. Watch the road.”

  “Give me your phone.”

  “What? No. Why?”

  Ben pulled the car over. They were on a stretch of road running along the coast. He held out his hand. “You’ve never let your phone die in the five years I’ve known you. Give it.”

  Nikolas climbed out, and the cold hit him, making his breath steam. He walked over the dunes and down to the sand, clear under a bright moon showing through a gap in the cloud. It had stopped snowing, but the wind was making small eddies out of the light covering on the sand.

  When Ben got to Nikolas, he was bent over, trying to get a cigarette to light in the wind. Ben plucked it out of his hand, holding it up accusingly. “You promised!”

  Nikolas rounded on him. “So did you! Who the fuck is Anna?” He prepared himself to watch Ben lie.

  Ben was crushing the cigarette. It was lit, and it burnt his palm. He looked up, clearly annoyed. “Who? I don’t know any Anna.” He gave a rueful shrug. “I don’t know many women, really.”

  Nikolas frowned. He studied Ben’s face. “I’ll ask you again, Benjamin. Who’s Anna? And be very careful what you say now, because I’m upset by this.”

  Ben finally clued in something important was going on. He ignored his hand and tipped his head to one side. “What’s wrong, Nik? I don’t know anyone called Anna. Who’s she?”

  “She’s apparently your pregnant fiancée.”

  Ben’s eyes widened. He began to laugh. “Good one…” Then he saw Nikolas’s expression. He took both Nikolas’s arms and held them. He stressed, as slowly and distinctly as he could, “I don’t know anyone called Anna. I don’t sleep with anyone but you, and if I ever marry anyone it would be―And that’s way gayer than I’m ever going to be, so just forget I said that, maybe?”

  Nikolas listened to all this with great attention. Finally, he let out a breath of relief. “I think we have a problem then.” He told Ben about the woman who’d come to his table.

  The only helpful comment Ben could make was, “They were how big? Wow…” He appeared to read something in Nikolas’s expression so he added weakly, “Anna, huh?”

  Nikolas nodded toward the car, and they walked shivering back to the warmth of the interior.

  Just before he pulled back onto the road, Ben twisted in his seat. “What did you think, Nik?” He gave him a wounded look. “Bloody hell. How many times do I have to tell you? Five years, Nikolas. Five years you’ve known how I feel about you, and you think I’d ever cheat on you? And on our first date, too.” He studied the tiny blister on his hand. Nikolas had the very distinct impression that the small burn wasn’t to blame for the glistening he could see in Ben’s eyes.

  He fiddled unnecessarily with the heating controls. Ben rarely called him Nikolas. He reckoned he was in trouble.

  Ben suddenly pulled back out onto the road, and they proceeded on their way. Nikolas tentatively handed him back his phone. Ben said, “Thank you,” exceedingly politely.

  Nikolas mirrored his tone. “You’re welcome.” After a few more moments, he added, “I suppose an apology isn’t going to impress you much at the moment.”

  “Why don’t you try one and see?”


  “I’m sorry?”

  “Nope, not doing it for me.”

  Nikolas blew out a long breath, his fringe rising and falling softly over his eyes. He heard a low chuckle from the driver’s seat and turned. “You were actually jealous of a woman. Oh—my—God, you want to have my babies.”

  “You’re going to make me pay for this, aren’t you?”

  “Oh, I’m going to leave it to you to decide what punishment you deserve.”

  “She was real, Ben. I didn’t make her up, and she knew you, and she knew me, and she seemed very sure of everything she said.”

  “I don’t know, Nik. What can I say? Maybe it was a wind up? A bet? It was probably just one of the girls in the library doing it for a joke! Come on, let’s get home. If you’re very, very good, I’ll give you the opportunity to carry my babies. How does that sound?”

  Nikolas wasn’t in the mood to be teased. As soon as they got home, he went to the sink and ran a large glass of water. He drank that and then another. Ben came up behind him and wrapped his arms around him. “Bed?” Nikolas nodded and pulled him close. He breathed into Ben’s hair for a while then gave him a little shove.

  “Go shower. I’ll do penance and take Radulf out.”

  Ben ruffled his hair. “It’s very cold. Not too long, yeah?”

  “For God’s sake, I survived a Siberian gulag.”

  “I was talking about the dog.”

  Nikolas started to click his fingers for Radulf to follow him, but Ben snagged his coat and held out his hand. Nik tried to look innocent but then swore and handed over his lighter. Ben waggled his fingers, and Nikolas handed over the packet of cigarettes, as well. It was full except for the one he’d tried to light earlier. “I have given up, Benjamin, but it’s easier if I have a packet with me. I know it’s illogical, but I can’t explain it to you, as you’ve never had to give up. I’m sorry.” Ben seemed to consider this for a moment then handed the packet back. Nikolas flashed him a quick glance. “I don’t deserve you.” Before Ben could agree with him, he went out, holding the door for the dog to follow him through.

  The clouds had almost all blown over, and the moon illuminated the snow in a blue-white wash of almost unearthly beauty; but Nikolas had seen many forests and too much snow and only wanted to climb into bed where it was warm. He didn’t like being wrong-footed, and that woman had done it to him tonight. He wondered idly if somewhere in his mind he was waiting for the day when Ben finally stopped loving him. He supposed it was inevitable. Despite Ben’s unwavering belief in him, Nikolas knew it was wholly undeserved. Even after his confession about his brother’s death, which he’d told Ben was the last of his secrets, there was still much he wouldn’t want Ben to find out about his past. He had a feeling Ben’s belief in his lovability would be destroyed fairly quickly should certain other events be known. He toed the snow, making patterns with his shoe. He desperately wanted a cigarette. It had been his whole reason for volunteering to stand in the freezing cold with the dog. He’d planned on smoking the one he’d tried to on the beach, reasoning as he’d already broken his promise with that one, another now was a freebie and didn’t count. He’d been looking forward to it all the way home. He kicked Ben’s woodpile out of spite. He was regretting his promise to give up; he’d been smoking since he was ten. Sergei could hardly punish him for stealing his cigarettes when he’d stolen something far more precious from his ten-year-old son.

  He felt something nudge his leg and glanced down to find the dog eyeing him evilly, as if he’d been the one forced out into the cold to accompany the human. Nikolas gave him back an equally evil glare, and they trudged in together.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Ben was still in the mood to tease about the strange woman in the restaurant and insisted on his plan of impregnation so Nikolas wouldn’t be jealous. By this time, however, Nikolas had suffered enough being made fun of so reminded Ben for most of the rest of the night just who was in charge in their relationship. Nikolas’s reminders weren’t gentle. They were both soldiers, and although Ben didn’t exactly enjoy the painful games Nikolas played with him, he definitely relished the quivering, intense orgasms they gave him. It wasn’t the best night, therefore, for Radulf to set up a volley of barking at five, just after they’d both drifted off exhausted and spent. Ben sat bolt upright, grunted, and then fell back asleep. Radulf didn’t stop. Nikolas poked Ben. “What does he want?”

  Ben turned, grunted something else and pulled the covers over his head. Uncharacteristically, Nikolas shouted to Radulf to shut the fuck up, but when the noise didn’t stop, he rolled naked out of bed and went downstairs. Radulf was standing at the window, huge paws up on the sill, staring out. Nikolas swatted him away, but he came back growling at the dark outside. Suddenly, a deer shot out of the woodpile and into the forest. Radulf’s volley of barking went up a pitch. Nikolas got hold of his collar and dragged him up the stairs and into the bedroom. He picked him up and heaved him onto the bed. Radulf appeared so surprised by this turn of events he lay quietly, staring at Nikolas with huge amber eyes as he wedged himself back into the very small space that was left.

  None of them woke until after lunch. If Nikolas sometimes felt his life lacked purpose, he didn’t mind too much when that meant he could get up when he liked, wear what he liked, and had no further thought for the day but to amuse himself by irritating both Ben and Radulf. He started by kicking Radulf outside as soon as he got downstairs, and although his foot didn’t actually connect, the dog, he reckoned, got the message. He watched him for a while as he sniffed around the log pile and then disappeared off down the track toward the lake, presumably following the deer scent. The dog dispatched, he took some coffee back up to bed for Ben. Ben had been on the receiving end of the let’s-prove-who’s-the-boss-in-this-relationship fun all night, so Nikolas reckoned he was owed coffee in bed.

  Lots of Nikolas’s life hadn’t held much pleasure, but sliding back into a still sleep-warm bed with Benjamin was definitely one of the more pleasurable activities. He carefully put the coffee down so as not to wake him. Very gently, he pulled the covers off Ben’s head. Ben grunted and turned. Nikolas smiled, propping himself up on one elbow to study the sleeping form. He combed his fingers through the long, bed-rumpled hair, and Ben opened his eyes. He frowned and mumbled, “Has he stopped barking?”

  Nikolas laughed. “Yes. About eight hours ago.”

  “Huh.” He seemed prepared to go back to sleep. “What’re you doing?”

  “It’s lunchtime, Benjamin. I’m hungry.”

  Ben laughed and turned onto his back to give Nikolas more access. He rested his hands very lightly on Nikolas’s head, something that was now tolerated so long as he didn’t press down, and lay back to enjoy the exquisite sensation of Nikolas’s mouth on his swelling cock.

  Eventually, when Nikolas was ready, he allowed Ben to come. Ben arched, unable to prevent his fingers snagging Nikolas’s hair. He was still coming down from his high when Nikolas slid up, seized his face and kissed Ben’s own spill back to him. It clearly wasn’t so much fun for Ben, and he was fought off until, both too winded with laugher to continue, they lay side by side in the ruined bed.

  “It’s snowing again.”

  Nikolas turned to follow Ben’s gaze. Suddenly, he flicked his eyes toward the door. He coughed and suggested, “You shower, maybe, and I’ll put more coffee on?” Ben nodded absentmindedly. Nikolas slunk downstairs and sheepishly opened the door.

  § § §

  The rest of the day passed in lazy enjoyment of doing nothing very much. Radulf filled his afternoon glaring at Nikolas and shivering to make him feel guilty. By the time it was dark, the snow was deep, even under the edge of the trees where it had drifted. Ben was clearly feeling restless, so, under protest, Nikolas allowed himself to be dragged out for a walk to the lake. It was only fifty metres, but he didn’t have the childlike love of snow Ben, being English, did. He didn’t find it amusing to be hit by snow or to be shoved into a deep drift. It was muc
h more amusing to push Ben into the lake and watch him flounder in the ice. They’d never put it to the test who was the faster runner; with suitable motivation, Nikolas discovered he could stay ahead of Ben just enough to reach the shelter of the lodge and a locked door before being caught. It was only when he promised to turn on the hot tub Ben promised not to beat him to a pulp.

  Watching Ben in the ice had almost been as much fun as stripping him slowly and easing him into hot, bubbling water—almost, but not quite. Nikolas was just about to apologise to him in the way they both enjoyed most when Ben’s phone rang. Nikolas tried to stop him answering, but Ben held it out of his reach. “It might be Anna having the baby!” He thought it was funny and was still laughing when he took the call. Then he frowned and mouthed, “Ingrid,” at Nikolas. He climbed out of the water and went back inside. By the time Nikolas came in, Ben was dressing. “She thinks someone has tried to break in.”