"You're absurd. Talk sense."
"I think you'll find I'm making perfect sense. Come on. I want a cup of tea. I want to talk to you. It feels like it's been years!" He kept hold of Isaac.
"I ought to go back for my cane." He felt wobbly enough from seeing Henry. No need to compound it by falling on his face.
"I'll go back for it later. Just lean on me." Henry kept looking at him.
"The cucumber will grow all over it, another stake."
"Now who's being absurd? You old fool. Someone else should be doing that. All those gardening things." They made their way towards the house.
"I like being useful," said Isaac. "I'm not fit for the lap quilt and chair yet."
A man in a wheeled chair glared at him as they passed, and Isaac flushed. He wanted to apologize, but they were already past.
"Tactful as ever, eh?" said Henry, sounding as though nothing could bring down his mood. "You can be useful later, if you must. Personally I think it's about time for doing nothing, for being as lazy as humanly possible."
Isaac considered the energetic man beside him, so full of life, with a spring in his step. "I don't think you could be lazy if you tried."
"You never know unless you give it a go." He winked.
Isaac looked away swiftly, trying not to stumble in his confusion. Henry was so very close and alive.
They went somewhere private, and had tea, and talked of this and that. The buoyant, energetic rush of Henry was a bit overwhelming, and Isaac had the feeling that Henry wasn't actually thinking about anything he said, it was just to fill space.
Isaac really was missing his cane, though, and when Henry finally realised that, saw that he had to lean on things to get to the kettle and back again, he jumped up, clasped Isaac's shoulder, and rushed out again to fetch it. A man on a mission.
Did nothing bring his spirits down? Yet Isaac knew how very low the man could be at times, so he oughtn't to mind this high spiritedness, surely.
Isaac felt strangely out of sorts. He'd missed Henry dreadfully, but now he didn't know what he felt, wasn't sure he liked being made to feel anything at all. He should feel like dancing. But he almost wished he could just finish weeding the cucumber patch and not have to think about anything at all.
"Here you go, old thing," said Henry, and returned his cane, none the worse for wear. He bent down and kissed Isaac on the cheek.
Isaac slapped a hand over the kissed spot and scowled up at the grinning Henry, who was bouncing a little on the balls of his feet, like someone who had learned a new trick and was especially proud of himself.
"You don't have to prove anything here," Isaac said rigidly. "Need I remind you this isn't a court room?"
"No," said Henry, slightly subdued. He sat down again, but nearer to Isaac, watching his face, and then not watching his face. He poked at the fire. "You see, I've—well, realised a few things, in these last few months. Learned some things as well." He cleared his throat.
Was he blushing? Isaac stared. Henry had only ever noticed women. Hadn't he? He'd never seen Isaac's miserably obvious crush. He'd never cared about men at all. How Isaac felt had only been bearable because Henry didn't know, wouldn't ever know, didn't want to know...
"Thing is, old chap, I don't think we should get divorced, when this is all over. Why not stick at it? Give things a proper go. I'd hate for my cousin to think he was right after all, even if he couldn't get a penny out of it."
"No. Well." Isaac cleared his throat. "There's no obligation, you know." He felt oddly lightheaded. "The debts are paid. I've certainly been looked after. I can even give back your clothes—"
"Would you shut up about my clothes?" said Henry. "They look better on you anyway." He was blushing now, for certain.
"No, no," said Isaac, very hot in the face. "They—they couldn't possibly."
"I think you fancy me. I think I fancy you as well, and maybe have for some time. You see—there was this fellow, and he—we—" He cleared his throat. "But I could only really think of you...and..." He shook his head. "We are married, you know. It's only right to give things a proper go."
"A proper seeing-to," said Isaac in a choked voice. "Back from the front lines, and that's all he can think of! A proper seeing to."
"Oh, do shut up," said Henry, springing out of his seat, and catching hold of Isaac's face, and kissing him on the mouth.
Isaac had no way of hiding his longing now. He was putty in Henry's hands, as ever. As he'd known for some time, he'd probably do nearly anything for this man. He'd been ever so glad Henry hadn't known that...
What would happen to him now that Henry finally saw? He couldn't possibly feel the same way, not for long. Except...he had come back, hadn't he? He'd come back the first time, for Isaac. He'd chosen to live, because Isaac might need him. He'd picked Isaac to marry in the first place, because he wanted to look after him the only way he knew how. Isaac was the one he'd trusted with his premonition, and then his estate, with everything, really.
And this time, he'd come back to kiss Isaac. Whatever he'd learned in the last few months, it hadn't possibly made him a worse kisser. It was a very nice kiss, long and heartfelt, like a dream come true.
Oh dear, thought Isaac. If this was a dream, he wondered if he could die from it, upon waking up. I was so careful not to feel anything, and now I'm feeling everything. What am I going to do?
Somehow he'd ended up pulled onto the floor, onto Henry's lap. It was an awkward position, but it felt wonderful. Henry was holding onto him by the hip possessively.
They stopped kissing for a moment, but possibly not a long one. "Don't cry," said Henry, stroking his face unhappily, his roughened fingertips gentle. "You mustn't. Stop it."
"I won't," said Isaac, and buried his face against Henry's chest, and held onto him like he was the only raft in a wild, raging ocean.
SOMETIME LATER, ISAAC woke up after his brief doze, to see Henry beside him in bed, bare-chested and stretching, looking quite satisfied with himself. There were a few small marks on his perfect body, scratches, little scars, but nothing large. Nothing debilitating. How had he gotten through the war so intact? Isaac reached out to trace one, and Henry preened a little, posing for him, his grin reaching his warm eyes. He was so beautiful.
"You're blond again," observed Isaac.
"Oh, you finally noticed?" He caught Isaac's hand and kissed his palm, like he was teasing him, but also like he couldn't bear to do anything else. "Blonder than ever, actually. All that hot sun." He tossed his mane a little.
Isaac squinted. "No, I think you were blonder the day I first met you. The sun was shining through your hair, you know. From behind, like a halo." He stretched back a little, getting comfortable, grinning. "You looked like a bloody angel. But that was before I knew you."
He wrapped his arms around Henry as Henry descended on him, and laughed as he was kissed on the neck and the wonderful weight of his slim, hard soldier pressed against him.
Henry brought their dicks together and took them in hand like he'd been born to it. "I'll show you an angel," said Henry breathlessly, as he worked them. "Bugger you for a lark."
"You can, you know. When we get some oil," said Isaac, just as breathless. He gazed up into Henry's eyes as Henry went still.
Isaac felt excruciatingly present. He wondered if everything he felt showed in his eyes, the way it did in Henry's. From Henry's expression of wonder and surprise staring at him, perhaps it did.
"You mean that?" said Henry. "I wouldn't want to presume anything or—or hurt you."
"I don't think you'd hurt me," said Isaac, meeting his gaze squarely, and thrusting up against Henry purposely, to get him to move again. "And you can have anything you want of me. I think you finally know that."
"Well," said Henry, firming his grip on their dicks and beginning to work them more purposefully. "Well, well. I guess we'll find out. We've got time enough and to spare, now."
~
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Two Soldiers (Marrying Men, #4) Page 3