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valarltdFrom the next Lord Withycombe novel, on why it's a bad idea to send everyone off on holiday at once:
Edward slowed at the sight of a slight man on the top of the front steps. Perhaps he wouldn't need to telephone after all. But the man had the air of waiting patiently. Charles never waited patiently and he would have gone right in the house. The man turned and Edward flinched.
“Hullo, Edward.”
“What are you doing here, Nigel?” he demanded.
“I dropped round to see if you needed any company. I saw your pet on the loose in London. Surprised me that you would let him off the leash in the big, bad city.”
“Get off my land.” Edward started up the stairs. Nigel stood as if he planned to stay put all night and into the next day.
“Really, now. Is that any way to greet an angel of ministering mercy who knows exactly what you need and has come to deliver it, like Lady Bountiful on Boxing Day?”
“Angel of hell,” Edward sneered. He couldn't show Nigel how much he needed what the other man was offering. The code was eight years old and both men knew every step of the dance. Edward's traitor body thrilled at the idea and his erection grew almost painful.
Edward fought for control of his desires as Nigel came down the stairs to him. “And why is your pretty catamite all alone in the drafty old town-house with only naughty Molly for...company? The nightmares are a lot worse without him in your bed, aren't they? You have the look of a man who hasn't been sleeping well. No, not well at all.”
“Piss off,” Edward said, most ungentlemanly. He tried pushing past Nigel and into the house, but Nigel was as underfoot as an affectionate house-cat and twice as annoying. He was losing. He would be on his knees, crying and begging soon enough. He had once chance, to get inside and lock Nigel out. Then he would call Charles home and make love until both of them slept without dreams.
“I know how to stop the nightmares, love.” Nigel's voice turned silky, even as his body stood immobile. “You know I can.” He ran one gentle hand over Edward's arm, sending tremors through the rest of Edward's body. “Let me,” he purred in Edward's ear.
The battle was lost.
“Basement,” Edward ground out.
Nigel hovered at Edward's side, his seductive whisper weakening Edward's last resolve even further. "I always know what you need. I'm the only one who ever stopped the nightmares. Sarah can't. Your dear American can't."
"Don't." Edward unlocked the basement.
"Don't what, love?" Nigel's hand clamped hard on the back of his neck. "Have you forgotten how this plays out? Mine, darling Edward and you do as I say." The little man's grip tightened uncomfortably until Edward set his jaw against the pain.
"Don't talk about Charles," he said, turning on the bare electric bulb. A set of manacles hung from one bare wall and a cabinet stood near them.
"To the wall, Edward love." Nigel gave him a shove and released his neck. "Let me stop your nightmares."
Edward slowed at the sight of a slight man on the top of the front steps. Perhaps he wouldn't need to telephone after all. But the man had the air of waiting patiently. Charles never waited patiently and he would have gone right in the house. The man turned and Edward flinched.
“Hullo, Edward.”
“What are you doing here, Nigel?” he demanded.
“I dropped round to see if you needed any company. I saw your pet on the loose in London. Surprised me that you would let him off the leash in the big, bad city.”
“Get off my land.” Edward started up the stairs. Nigel stood as if he planned to stay put all night and into the next day.
“Really, now. Is that any way to greet an angel of ministering mercy who knows exactly what you need and has come to deliver it, like Lady Bountiful on Boxing Day?”
“Angel of hell,” Edward sneered. He couldn't show Nigel how much he needed what the other man was offering. The code was eight years old and both men knew every step of the dance. Edward's traitor body thrilled at the idea and his erection grew almost painful.
Edward fought for control of his desires as Nigel came down the stairs to him. “And why is your pretty catamite all alone in the drafty old town-house with only naughty Molly for...company? The nightmares are a lot worse without him in your bed, aren't they? You have the look of a man who hasn't been sleeping well. No, not well at all.”
“Piss off,” Edward said, most ungentlemanly. He tried pushing past Nigel and into the house, but Nigel was as underfoot as an affectionate house-cat and twice as annoying. He was losing. He would be on his knees, crying and begging soon enough. He had once chance, to get inside and lock Nigel out. Then he would call Charles home and make love until both of them slept without dreams.
“I know how to stop the nightmares, love.” Nigel's voice turned silky, even as his body stood immobile. “You know I can.” He ran one gentle hand over Edward's arm, sending tremors through the rest of Edward's body. “Let me,” he purred in Edward's ear.
The battle was lost.
“Basement,” Edward ground out.
Nigel hovered at Edward's side, his seductive whisper weakening Edward's last resolve even further. "I always know what you need. I'm the only one who ever stopped the nightmares. Sarah can't. Your dear American can't."
"Don't." Edward unlocked the basement.
"Don't what, love?" Nigel's hand clamped hard on the back of his neck. "Have you forgotten how this plays out? Mine, darling Edward and you do as I say." The little man's grip tightened uncomfortably until Edward set his jaw against the pain.
"Don't talk about Charles," he said, turning on the bare electric bulb. A set of manacles hung from one bare wall and a cabinet stood near them.
"To the wall, Edward love." Nigel gave him a shove and released his neck. "Let me stop your nightmares."
