by Tinnean
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
“Roddy, it’s some sort of holiday here in Cairo. One of their religious do’s. You’ll never find a place to stay at this hour.”
My resolve wavered. I knew I should object more strenuously, but I didn’t. I could sleep in a stable with the horses, but the lure of a soft bed after all this time was irresistible. And frankly, I wanted to spend some time with him, with another human being. “All right, Tommy,” I conceded. “Is there a place where I can stable my animals?”
A huge grin split his face. “Of course, dear boy. Just come along with me.”
* * * *
After he got me settled in his digs, Tommy took me to a restaurant he swore served the best English food in Egypt. Boiled beef and potatoes. I gave him a pained look, but ate to please him.
He toyed with his drink as I took a final bite and touched my napkin to my lips. “Shall we go out and get blotto, Roddy? It seems to me you could use a night of forgetfulness.”
“Certainly. Whatever is your pleasure.”
“Oh, you shouldn’t be saying such provocative things to me, dear boy.”
I blushed. What had come over me? “I didn’t mean anything—”
“Of course not. How very naughty of me to tease you that way. Very well, let’s go get lit up. However, I don’t think we should wander too far from home.”
“Whatever you say.”
We went to a nearby bar that tried to pass itself off as an English pub and failed spectacularly. But the ambience was unimportant. All that mattered was that it was stocked with booze.
Tommy was about to order my usual pint, but I rested my fingers on the back of his hand. “Gin, tonight, please.”
He searched my eyes before nodding to the native boy who tended the bar and placed coins on the counter. We took our glasses and found an unoccupied table.
“So. Care to tell me the whole, sordid story?” Tommy sipped his drink and lit one of those dark, Egyptian cigarettes. I took it from his fingers and put it between my lips, drawing deeply on it. My plan was to let the smoke trickle from my nostrils, as I’d often seen Charlie do, but instead I began coughing and couldn’t stop. Tommy took the cigarette from my fingers before I dropped it and set the place on fire. He set it down at the edge of the table and patted my back in a gesture that seemed soothing but didn’t do much in the way of stopping the cough.
I finally managed to stop on my own, glared as if to challenge Tommy to comment on my idiocy, and picked up the glass of gin, determined to sample Charlie’s chosen poison.
I gasped and held my breath as liquid fire burned my gullet. My eyes watered and I swallowed repeatedly, until I was finally sure I wouldn’t spew the contents of my stomach all over the table.
Tommy grinned ruefully. “Sure you don’t want me to get you a pint, rosebud?”
“I don’t think you should call me that,” I said, disquieted by the warmth in his voice. “And no, I don’t want a pint of bitter.” I downed another swallow, and this time it wasn’t quite so bad. Gradually, I finished that first drink, and went to the bar to get another. To save time, I had the barman make it a double, and ordered two of them. I fumbled in my pocket for some coins, then slapped them down.
My companion cocked an eyebrow at me when I returned with two glasses and set them down on my side of the table. It didn’t take me long to finish one and make serious inroads on the other.
Tommy picked up the cigarette and knocked off the long ash before bringing it to his mouth.
I licked my lips, barely stifling a groan. I wanted that mouth. I looked away in shame.
Tommy rested his long fingers under my chin and turned my face toward him. “I can see you’re in pain, Roddy. What can I do to help you?”
“You might want to be careful what you offer, Thomas Smythe. Don’t you know what they say about comforting a widow?”
“Bloody hell, Roddy. He married you? I didn’t know that. I thought—hell, I don’t know what I thought. Sweetheart—”
“Don’t call me that. Don’t you ever call me that,” I snarled. “That’s what Charlie called me.” I stood abruptly, almost causing my chair to tip over. “I’m getting another gin. Do you want one?”
“Er…no, I think I’ll finish this one first.” He murmured something else under his breath, and he smiled at me with regret.
I dropped my gaze to scowl at the empty glasses in front of me, then turned, nearly tangling my feet and falling on my face. After I was able to focus and locate the bar, I made my way over to it with exaggerated care.
Standing affected my balance, and I returned to the table with even more care.
“Do you remember RSM Cutter?” Tommy asked after I managed to sit down without missing the seat and falling off my chair.
“Your regimental sergeant major? Of course. He was the one who got Charlie and me to Nairobi.”
Tommy nodded. “Good man; one of the best. Took me under his wing, so-to-speak, when I was a wet-behind-the-ears officer away from home for the first time. It was because of him that I didn’t lose more than my eye. But I lost him, and quite frankly, I’d rather have lost my life.”
“Tommy! I’m so sorry. I had no idea things were that way between you.”
“No. You were so wrapped up in your Charlie. I’ll tell you the truth, old chap. My nose was a trifle out of joint when you turned down my offer so you could stay with that old man. Archie set me to rights, soon enough, I can tell you.” He laughed softly over the memory. “Warmed my seat quite thoroughly, and then made love to me all night long.”
“He was the…the one in charge?” I wanted to know, but I didn’t want to insult him. Somehow, it never dawned on me that the dashing captain would have allowed a subordinate to bugger him. “So was Charlie,” I hastened to add.
“I had the feeling that was how it was between you two.” He sighed. “You’d never have thought Arch ran the show, not if you saw us outside our tents. Then he was always, ‘Yes, sir,’ ‘Right away, sir,’ and ‘As you say, sir.’” There was a hitch in his voice. “In our tents, though…It was ‘Let me take care of you, pet.’ He’d spent time in Newcastle, you see.”
I didn’t see, but I nodded as if I did.
“I miss him to this day.”
I reached across the table and closed my hand over his. “Tommy…” I hiccupped, and put the fingers of my other hand to my lips. “Oops. Pardon me.”
“I think we’ve had more than enough for tonight. Let’s toddle on home, shall we?”
I climbed to my feet, swaying slightly. “Why’s the room rocking?” I asked him.
He shook his head. “We’re on our way.” He got an arm around me and kept me steady as we walked out to the street. I whirled around when once again I felt eyes on my back, but no one was there. “Gently, pet.” I would have fallen but for Tommy’s hold on me.
“I thought someone was there.”
“No, it’s just the two of us. Onward.”
I was relieved his rooms weren’t too far from this place, because I wasn’t certain I could make it back on two feet. Soon we were climbing the stairs to his rooms.
He brought me into a bedroom and nudged me until I was sitting on the edge of the bed. Then he knelt to remove my boots.
“Wanna sing,” I informed him, and did, an even naughtier song than the one I’d sung the last time I’d been with him, this one about a man who came home from a night at the pub to find shenanigans had been going on under his own roof, although he was too drunk—as his wife kept telling him—to realise it. I began to giggle as I finished the song, and I toppled over onto the bed. I pulled a pillow into my embrace and as competent fingers undressed me, I fell deeply asleep…
Chapter 11
This dream was unlike any I had had in the desert. My love was with me, holding me while I wept.
“Hush, sweetheart. Hush. There’s no need to weep.” His mouth came down on mine, feasting on my lips, and I pushed him onto his back, following him down to
the mattress. He was naked beneath my questing hands, his chest more furred than I seemed to recall, but his nipples stabbed into my palms, and I found I didn’t care. I squeezed those points to pebble hardness, and he moaned.
“You left me,” I whispered, the pain tearing me apart, and I tightened my grip on him.
“But I’m here now, love.” He had his hand on my prick, and he coated it with a slick lotion that smelled of sandalwood. “Take me.” He pulled his legs back, exposing his puckered opening to me.
There was no fumbling, no probing. I found his hole and thrust forward. He must have prepared himself as well, for I slid in easily. And I thought I would die from the pleasure that swept over me.
Was this what it had been like, all those years when my love had taken me? Unbelievable heat, a grip that fit like a silken glove? I shoved in as hard as I could, and froze as a sound between a groan and a whimper passed his lips.
“Oh, love, have I hurt you?”
“Jesus God, no! Don’t stop. Do it again. Bugger me!”
Bracing myself on my arms, I withdrew until just the tip of my shaft was enclosed in his wondrous heat, then buried myself in that snug channel over and over and over again, until I reached the summit and poured myself into him.
I sank down and slid gently out of my love, only then realizing that he hadn’t climaxed. I licked the base of his throat, and began working my way down his body, pausing to suckle the flat male nipples. I enjoyed his sighs and moans.
I moved further downward, exploring the firm muscles of his abdomen and his slightly convex navel. No, that could not be right.
But an upward thrust of his groin distracted me, and I continued on my journey. Carefully avoiding his prick, I kissed the thicket of curls that surrounded it.
“Roddy!” He growled my name, annoyed that I was protracting the moment.
I laughed softly and ran my tongue from the broad base of his shaft to the oozing tip. The taste was different, sweeter than usual, but again he distracted me, and I swallowed him down and sucked on him strongly. With a muffled shout, he poured himself into my throat. I milked the last drop from him, lazily licking the slight kink in his softening length.
Before I could question that unfamiliar bend, a breath whispered over my lips, and he tasted himself on my mouth. “That was wonderful, love. Thank you.”
“I never knew it could be like that,” I murmured as I sprawled on top of my love and marvelled at the vividness of this dream. “You never told me, Charlie…”
Chapter 12
A hard hand slapped my bum, and I moaned and buried my head under the pillow. “Go ‘way and let me die in peace.”
“Roddy. What’s wrong?”
“My God, I’m dying. My head is killing me and my stomach—” I clapped a hand to my mouth and rolled over to the side of the bed. Fortunately, Tommy had the chamber pot handy, and I spewed the contents of my stomach into it. “What’s wrong with me?”
Tommy laughed. “I was afraid you might have this reaction to all the gin you drank last night.”
I glared at him through the fringe of hair that hung in my eyes. “It’s not kind to mock the afflicted, Smythe. I’m dying, I tell you.”
“No, you’ve got a hangover.”
“I never have a hangover,” I declared, affronted.
“You’ve never drunk that much gin before.”
“Well, actually, I’ve never drunk gin before at all. Oh, God, how did Charlie do it? Charlie…” And my loss washed over me all over again.
“Are you feeling any better, now?”
I glared at him. “How could you let me get that drunk?” I demanded.
He backed up, chuckling, his hands held as if to ward off a blow. “What would you have me do?”
“Anything! Next time you see me even thinking of having a gin, stop me. Tie me to the bed, anything. I don’t care.”
“Oh, that’s a dangerous image to place in my mind, Roddy Sayer.” He looked uncomfortable. “About last night—”
“I trust you,” I said at the same time he spoke.
“Hell.” He growled under his breath. “Ah, bugger it. Let’s get dressed and get some breakfast.”
“Er…if you don’t mind, I think I’ll see to my animals right now. Perhaps later…?”
“I’ve already taken care of the horses and that evil creature you call a donkey. You’re going to eat something now. You’ll feel better, I promise you.”
“Famous last words,” I whinged, but sat up carefully.
“Drink this.” Tommy commanded, handing me a twist of powder and a glass of water. Surprisingly, once I had downed them, I did feel better.
We went to a café nearby and ordered a pot of what was purported to be good English tea while we waited for our breakfast to be prepared. I had no problem with the tea, since all that mattered to me was that it was hot and sweet, but Tommy pulled a face and grumbled under his breath.
“Why do you call Rocinante evil?” I asked as I raised my cup to my lips.
“Because he is. Damned beast tried to take a chunk out of my arse.”
“Sorry. I should have told you he’s likely to be out of sorts in the morning. You have to tread warily around him.”
“Well, tomorrow you can see to his care.”
I set the teacup down gently. “I…won’t be here tomorrow. I’ve got to get back to our…my farm. If I don’t pay off the mortgage, I’ll be homeless.”
“You’ll never be without a home.”
I looked at him questioningly.
“What I mean to say is, you’re more than welcome to stay with me.”
“That’s too kind of you, but Charlie wants me…wanted me to keep that land.”
Tommy was silent for a moment, apparently thinking hard. “You needn’t go to South Africa. You can wire the payment from here, handle the entire transaction long distance.”
“I could?” I gave it some consideration. “Yes, I suppose I could. But why would I?”
“I must go home to England. A family matter. I want you to come back with me.”
“Home?” I tested the word on my tongue. Home had been where Charlie was. Now that he was gone, it didn’t matter where I lived anymore. “Very well, Tommy. I’ll go home with you.”
* * * *
One of the under-secretaries at the consulate saw to the wiring of the funds that made our little farm and the hilly country that surrounded it completely mine.
The sensation of being watched followed me even to Government House, and I began to grow impatient. If I ever found the person who was following me, I…well, I’d do him some grievous bodily harm.
“I have to find Sheik Abd Al-Malik and return the horses to him,” I told Tommy, determined to put the idea of someone stalking me as if I were prey out of my mind. “He said he would be in Damascus.”
He looked startled for a moment, then nodded. “I’ll get the supplies we’ll need, and we can leave in the morning.”
“You don’t have to come, you know.”
“I do. We’re not having this conversation. Now go look after that misbegotten spawn of Satan.”
“Who?” I teased.
“You know very well who.” He glared at me, pinched my arse, and hurried off to the marketplace.
Chapter 13
We left the next morning as Tommy said, and my relief became overwhelming when I realised the further we got from Egypt, the more that nagging feeling of eyes watching me weakened, until finally, by the time we reached Damascus, it vanished.
It took us some time to scour the city for the sheik’s tribe, but in due course we found him, just outside the city.
“Ah. My young friend.” Sheik Abd Al-Malik embraced me, then looked over the horses. “They are in good flesh. You have treated them well.”
“But of course.”
He nodded in obvious satisfaction, then glanced at Tommy.
“This is my friend, Thomas Smythe.”
“Captain.”
“Shei
k.”
How did he know Tommy was a former army officer?
“You have business to deal with,” Tommy said to me before I could ask. “I’ll just go look at the pretty camels.”
The sheik laughed, then turned to me. “Where is my friend, Charlie Pearson?”
I set aside my confusion. “Charlie’s dead, Sheik.”
Slow tears began to trickle down his cheeks. “I feared as much when last I saw him.”
“You…you knew?”
“We spoke of it while you were getting to know Hubini. You stayed with him?”
“Of course,” I said again.
He nodded. “In that case, I want you to keep the horses as a token of the friendship Charlie and I bore.”
“Thank you.” I had no intention of turning down such a magnificent gift.
He rested a hand on my shoulder. “You’ll stay with me for a few days?” He gazed beyond me toward where Tommy was admiring the camels. “What is he to you, my young friend?”
“He’s a friend. Charlie and I met him years ago, during the Great War.”
“Hmm.”
I frowned at him. “Why do you say ‘hmm’ in that tone of voice?”
“You travel with him now.”
“I do. As I said, he’s a—”
“Yes, yes.”
I stood unbending. “If you think there’s anything other than friendship between us—”
“What I think hardly matters.” He tilted his head. “My friend would be pleased you are not alone. He was a good many years your senior, and he always knew he would pass on before you.”
“I didn’t want him to go.”
“I know.” He touched my shoulder. “But it is as Allah wills it. Now come. I will take you to your tent.”
It was a fairly roomy affair, and I was surprised to see the beds for Tommy and me laid out side by side. After the sheik left me, I dragged my bed to the opposite corner of the tent.
It was Tommy’s turn to seem surprised when he saw how I had rearranged the tent’s interior, and I held myself stiffly, waiting to hear objections, but he gave a lopsided smile and went to a ewer of water to wash before we joined the sheik for the evening meal.