Snowbound

Chapter Seventeen


Giles sat, and was surprised that Spike’s hand stayed warthinthin his. “I can tell you in one sentence,” he said. “I discovered that he had Jennifer killed so that he could have me.”

Spike’s grip tightened and that small comfort shattered two decades of silence. In a rush of words, Giles began to speak, pouring out feelings of bitterness and despair that burned as bright as they had so many years ago.

***

Giles entered Vauxhall Gardens with a quickening of his senses that told him Ethan was nearby. Impossible to deny or define, the link between them was strengthening daily, as though each kiss, each caress bound them closer – even now, when they were at outs with each other.

Lips tightening with anger, Giles swept the crowd, looking for a peacock or a raven; Ethan might be dressed as either, but whichever he chose, he would be drawing attention – ah. He saw a thick knot of people part and the slender, strong figure of his lover emerge, clad in rich purple brocade, gracefully inclining his head in thanks or farewell. His arm was linked with another man’s – no, a youth, scarce old enough to shave, Giles thought bitterly. The youth looked besotted, adoring eyes turned up to Ethan’s smiling face, though Giles was fairly certain he’d been picked up no more than a few hours earlier. He knew all of Ethan’s court, and this face, handsome, if weak, would have stood out. He frowned. The lad’s clothes were of good enough quality that seducing him might have unpleasant consequences, and he hoped Ethan had done no more than charm him with words.

“My dear – my very dear – Rupert! What a charming surprise. I had not thought to see you here tonight.”

“Oh, I doubt that, Ethan.” Giles let his eyes flicker towards the boy. “I think everything about you indicates that you expected me.”

“I don’t understand,” the boy said, his lips pouting. “Send him away, Ethan. You promised to show me the maze.”

“Oh, Lord!” Giles cast up his eyes impatiently. “Ethan, have done with this foolishness! And you,” he turned to the boy. “I recognise you now. Linton’s youngest, am I correct? Take yourself home before word of this night comes to his ears and you find yourself rusticated.”

The stripling drew himself up, swaying slightly; Giles prayed it was from no more than wine. “An – and what would he hear, sir? Only that I have been having a most ‘musing night. Vastly entertaining, until you arrived. Take care I do not call you out for spoiling such a pleasant evening.”

“Perceive me trembling at the thought,” Giles said acidly. Ethan was openly grinning now, and they were beginning to get curious glances from the crowd, as Linton was not troubling to keep his voice low. “I think he might find your – pleasant – evening dearly bought if it came at the cost of your reputation. And my lRaynRayne is not known for keeping his promises; I doubt you would have ever reached the centre of the maze.”

Ethan chuckled, as aware as Giles that the maze was a notorious spot for courting couples, who tended to spend less time on seeking to solve it than finding an unoccupied, dimly-lit alcove in which to sport. “Oh, I think I might have found my way to the heart of something,” he remarked, bringing his hand around to toy with the buttons that clasped Linton’s coat.

Ignoring the gibe, Giles came closer to Ethan and said softly, “I am neither jealous nor enraged, Ethan. Merely incredulous at the banality of your behaviour. If you do not wish me to expire on the spot from boredom, I beg you, have done. There is a matter I wish to discuss with you.”

Ethan began to walk towards a secluded pathway, lit by candles floating in an artificial stream that ran beside it. Linton clung to his arm, darting a fierce look at Giles who matched his steps to theirs. When the noise of the crowd had died away and they were out of sight, Ethan stopped abruptly. “Speak, then.”

Staring pointedly at Linton, Giles contented himself with a small headshake. Temper sparked in Ethan’s dark eyes. “Silence is golden, is it not? But there are other ways to close a mouth. A blow...or a kiss...” He bent his head, pulling Linton to him and taking his lips as Giles watched, refusing to look away. When he paused, Linton’s eyes were half-closed ans sos soft lips were bitten to a lushness that made him look older than his years. “You see?”

“I see that ‘tis pointless to expect anything from you while your anger rides you, Ethan. If it cools, send word.” Giles smiled, showing his teeth. “Send it by this puppy, if you like. I’m sure by then you’ll have him nicely school

Linton cried out at the insult and freed himself from Ethan’s embrace, walking unsteadily towards Giles who waited for the first clumsy punch, allowing it to land on his face, and then drove his clenched fist forward, sending Linton to the floor in a heap.

“Neatly done,” Ethan said, pattering his hands together in ironic applause. “I despaired of ever getting him to leave and his breath stank most distressingly of onions.”

“You go too far, Ethan,” Giles said, keeping his voice level with some difficulty. “If his father has a mind to take this matter further –”

“Doubtful,” Ethan said, adjusting the lace on his cuff with a precision designed to annoy. “He owes me ten thousand guineas since a rather disastrous run of ill-luck at the tables. If he thought throwing this one in my lap – ah, not literally, you understand – would soften me, he is vastly mistaken. Of course, it could be pure chance that our paths crossed this night.” One dark eyebrow lifted. “What, Rupert? You thought him innocent? An attempt to make you – what was it? – ‘jealous and enraged’?” Mocking and malicious though his voice was, Giles glimpsed the hurt in his eyes and swore violently.

“Ethan – what was I to think? You are angry with me, this I know and – ”

Ethan shook his head slowly. “No. Impatient, yes. Restive, because I cannot see why you deny what is self-evident – but you cannot anger me, Rupert.”

“I hurt you,” Giles said.

“True,” Ethan allowed, stepping around Linton who was beginning to stir. “That you can do. Amusing, is it not, that love gives you such power over me. Shall we go? Yes, I really think we should.”

They walked in silence, going deeper into the gardens, neither willing to speak. Finally Giles sighed and reached out, halting Ethan. “I am sorry, Ethan. I deserve your anger, even if you say you feel none. I misjudged you.”

“What troubled you the most?” Ethan asked, his eyes bright with curiosity. “The thought of me with another or the notion that I would corrupt an innocent?”

The answer seemed simple, and Giles opened his mouth to give it, and then paused, finding, not for the first time, that Ethan’s question was deceptive. “I do not know,” he said slowly. “Does it matter? Both would imply I had been deceived in you.”

“I suppose they would. Which means that you have never truly believed my assurances that, once found, I would never let you slip from my hands. And infidelity would surely drive you away, would it not? You prize loyalty, truth...all manner of virtues.”

“And you do not?” Giles asked shrewdly. “Were you to see me kiss another, what would you do, Ethan? Stand idly by? I think not.”

Ethan reached up and ran a caressing hand over Giles’ face, his fingers warm and the light touch instantly arousing. “It was infamous of me to kiss him, and I say that not only because of his foul breath.”

A choke of laughter wiped away the last of Giles’ ill-humour. “Poor Ethan! Shall I find you some wine to wash away the taste?”

Smiling lips pursed and blew him a kiss. “An excellent suggestion, Rupert, but I can think of something better than the vinegar they sell here, to chase away the memory of one deeply regretted kiss.” His hand left Giles’ face and wandered down, nimble fingers tracing the outline of Giles’ rapidly thickening shaft. “Well?”

“Not here!” Giles protested, glancing about. “Let us go home and –”

“Here. Now.” Ethan’s lips curled in a smile that was tinged with anticipation. “You deny me much, Rupert; do not deny me when I wish only to kneel in supplication at your feet.”

Giles raised his eyebrows. “Ethan, humility is not in you. You might kneel before me for hours and still not come close to looking like a supplicant.”

“’Tis true.” Ethan nodded. “A king may kneel before a peasant –”

“I do trust that doesn’t apply directly to our relationship,” Giles said. “We share equal rank, you know.”

“ – and have his dignity no whit impaired,” Ethan finished serenely. “And I could kneel before you, pleasure you with tongue and teeth and mouth and still not feel in the least diminished.”

“I can well believe Gil Giles said, striving for a light tone because the images Ethan’s words left in his mind were not conducive to calm. “Yet still I care not for such public displays, as well you know.”

“And I care not to be left without you for a week, while you ponder and procrastinate!” Ethan snapped. “The ritual to bind us will give us power, will open doors I had thought closed to me for ever...why will you not agree to it?”

Giles shook his head. “I do not know,” he said simply. “I cannot feel that we do not belong together, I cannot imagine losing you...but the spell seems unnecessary. Power to do what, Ethan? What do you seek?”

For a moment Ethan looked uncertain but he shrugged. “Secrets. Lost knowledge. I seek them for their own sake as much as the power they bring in their wake. I was ever curious.” He eyed Giles. “You share that, too. You feel the bond that lies between us. In truth, it exists already; the spell will awaken it fully, but it already exists. Nothing can destroy it, but if you choose to let it slumber – what a waste!” He was close enough now that Giles could feel his warm breath against his face. “You do not believe me? A week apart, Rupert – did you not hunger for my touch? Did your body not crave mine?”

“You know I missed you,” Giles answered readily, “not just in that way, but, yes, I wanted you.”

“And took your hand –” Ethan caught Giles’ hand in his own and held it up so that the moonlight gleamed against the sapphire ring he wore, parting Giles’ fingers and running his own between them with a light, teasing touch, “and let it touch what my hand could not, let these fingers curl and squeeze your length until the ache of longing took your breath from you –” Ethan’s head bent low and his tongue lapped gently at Giles’ middle finger, sending a flash of desire thrilling through him, “until all you could speak was my name as the darkness took you.” His teeth nipped sharply at a fingertip and Giles moaned, lost in sensation.

Ethan slipped his hand into Giles’ and lowered them. “I felt it, Giles,” he whispered. “Felt every touch as though it fell on my own cock, heard every whimper, every moan. I found release as you did – and hardened again, just as you did. There’s none for you, but me, my sweet, none who can cool me, not who can make me burn.”

“Ethan...”

Giles let himself be pushed back until the rough bark of a tree lay against his back. Ethan took both his hands and pulled them back. “Palms against the tree, Rupert. Do not move them. This is my revenge for your neglect and you will not say me nay, will you.”

Giles bit his lip and nodded in answer to what had never been a question. His body was awake and clamouring for a relief it had been denied. His eyes closed as Ethan’s fingers deftly undid his breeches and the cool night air whispered against heated flesh, then opened as Ethan slid down, kissing him as he went.

Kneeling, or bent over, astride him or behind him, Ethan never changed, Giles realised, in a final burst of coherent thought as Ethan took him in deeply. Always in control, always supremely assured. He could make the man cry out, make him babble words of pleasure and adoration, but never did he feel he was his master. Not that he wanted to be – and perhaps that was where the difference lay. He wanted nothing but Ethan – Ethan wanted there to be nothing but him. He came, hips jerking, crying out – but the hands that longed to be touching dark hair, crisply curling against a white neck, held only crumbling bark until Ethan released them.

***

“So, I’ll hazard a guess and say you did the ritual then?” Spike asked, sounding not entirely unsympathetic. He tilted his head. “Sounds as if they’ve reached the part where they bury their differences – eight inches deep, or thereabouts.”

Giles stared at him, half indignantly. “You – yes, I did, but – and does it not trouble you that –”

“Lord, Giles, I’ve never known you be so muddled,” Spike said indulgently, patting him on the arm. “You remind me of my aunt. She could no more finish a sentence than I could refuse Wesley when he looks at me and – well, never mind that.” He grinned. “And no, I do not mind at all that they’re enjoying themselves. It will do them good – and I’ll get all the details of the encounter from them afterwards, and if they do not give enough – why, I’ll insist they show me!”

He looked so impish that Giles grinned despite himself. “You never doubt their love for you, do you?” he asked softly.

“Never,” Spike said. He hesitated. “It was like that with you and this Ethan?”

“It was, yes.” Giles sighed and stood, going to the window and gazing down at the sea far below. “We did the spell and Ethan immersed himself in study and kindled my interest, so that I joined him. We were...very happy for a time.”

“Then you found out –?” Spike let the question die away, with a delicacy Giles appreciated.

“That he had engineered Jennifer’s fate, yes.”

“How?” Bluntness replaced delicacy with dizzying swiftness.

“How did I find out? Or how did he kill her?”

“Both.”

Giles swung around, surprised by Spike’s unaccustomed brevity. Spike was frowning at the panels of the door, looking uncertain. “What is it?”

“Not what I expected,” Spike said, drumming his fingers against his leg. “Not sure – oh, well. Angel’s able to take care of himself.”

Giles found his attention focused on the door too. “What – what is Wesley doing?” he asked before he realised that he had no business enquiring.

“You know a bit ago, when he cried out and you stopped talking?” Giles nodded. “That was when he got Wesley cross.”

“I gathered as much,” Giles said, a little dryly. “And do you think Angel is repeating his offence?”

“Not exactly,” Spike said. “Now, answer my question. Both of ‘em.”

“Jennifer died with symptoms that puzzled her doctor. It took a week to bring her from a healthy, happy girl, to a wasted shell. Nothing could arrest the illness, nothing could save her. There were...certain symptoms, unusual ones. I found them listed, with dates, in Ethan’s handwriting, in a notebook he kept in his desk. I found out later that he’d bribed a servant to advise him of the progress of her malady.” Giles closed his eyes and felt Spike draw him down to sit beside him, warm fingers reassuringly tight against his own. “I – went to him. I was confused, angry. I wanted to know why – I hurt him. Physically, I mean. I was stronger, and oh, so very angry. He’d told me once that he’d seen me in the park one day, the day before I met Jennifer. She was doomed from that moment. He saw my interest in her, realised that to clear a path to me he had to remove her – easy for him to slip poison into her drink at a party, perhaps one of his charms – I know not.”

Spike ned.ned. “Why do you not know? He confessed, did he not?”

“Never,” Giles said, setting his teeth, “He denied the whole, vehemently at first, and then –”

“What?” Spike’s arm went about his shoulders, hugging him, while his other hand cupped Giles’ face, forcing him to meet the concerned blue eyes that swam before his face. “What did you do to him, Giles?”

Giles squeezed his eyes shut against the memories. “I severed the bond. He swore it could not be done, but I knew differently. I was – always a little afraid of it. I made it my business to study it and I knew what could be done to reverse it. I left him, bleeding, calling out to me – went to the rooms where he kept his supplies – did his spells – I broke it and I broke him, damaged him because he fought it.” Giles shuddered. “I left the house with his screams ringing in my ears and never saw him again.”

He felt himself being pushed away and glanced up, blinking away the tears. “What is it? Why do you look at me so?”

“You did that to him – and to yourself – and he never confessed?”

“He feared I would kill him,” Giles said, puzzled. “In truth, I do not know why I spared him.”

“You did worse than that to him in the end,” Spike said, his voice cold. “Tell me, Giles, is there more you are not telling me? More evidence you uncovered, more to lay at his door than a notebook and a servant’s tale?”

“It was in his hand! It was her illness, described in detail.”

“Tell me of the symptoms then.”

Giles searched his mind. “It is so long ago,” he said. “She became lethargic, listless...she could not eat...she wasted away, I tell you. Her skin – so cold...she slept as though she were dead...”

“Take a lot of laudanum, did she?” Spike’s voice was dry.

“I believe – yes – she was prone to headaches, the vapors –” Giles flushed. “What of it? Most women use it.”

“And men – and some die of it.” Spike’s voice was inflexible. “Lost a friend to it; soldier who’d had his leg amputated. Rich enough to afford it, not like some of the poor devils out there...he took too much and got to the point where he craved it. Then he exhausted his supply and there was none to be found. He died in much the same way.”

Giles was shaking his head. “No! It was a spell...”

“Is that really easier to believe than your Jennifer being addicted to opium? And I’m not blaming her; she probably didn’t realise what was happening...”

“Then why did he monitor the progress of her illness? Why did he have it written down?”

“I don’t know,” Spike said, his voice slow and deliberate. “When you asked him, what did he say?”

Remembered sorrow bowed Giles head. “That he was curious. That he had heard of her illness because by then he was ...watching me – that her illness reminded him of the death of his mother. Lies, all lies. His mother died in a carriage accident.” Giles raised his head, his face contorted. “I asked him if he regretted her death and his eyes – so cold!- he said he did not.”

“Well, that doesn’t speak well of his compassion,” Spike said, “but perhaps he was thinking of the fact that with her death, you two found each other?”

“What are you saying?” Giles whispered. “What are you telling me?”

“That you wronged him? That you gave him less chance to explain himself than I’d give a cat with feathers in its teeth, if my pet bird went missing? You once made Wesley close to tears by tearing up an essay he spent a week writing. Said it was flawed because he hadn’t reasoned from the data, he’d leapt to conclusions. It seems to me you did just that...you were scared, Giles, weren’t you? Scared of the intimacy, scared by the notion that you belonged to him. You –” Spike stood up and stepped away. “You fool, Giles. You utter fool.”

Giles opened his mouth, but the words of denial or appeal – he knew not which - froze on his lips. Turning his head, as though he heard approaching footsteps, he said faintly, “He’s almost here. So close. I cannot – ”

Spike stood and pulled Giles to his feet. “Make it right? No, you probably cannot. But you can find out the truth, Giles, and then –”

“Then?”

Spike bit his lip. “I know not,” he confessed. “If I were he, and I were innocent, I’d not be coming here looking to reconcile, or for an apology.”

“No.” Giles straightened and gave Spike a slight nod. “You’d want my blood, would you not? You’d want to end my life as I ended yours twenty years ago.”

The door to the corridor opened. “I see you’ve lost none of your insight, Rupert. Forgive me for intruding unannounced, but I wasn’t sure your servants would let me pass, and I really did so want to chat with you. So much to catch up on, don’t you think?”

Spike cleared his throat, glancing between Giles, who seemed struck dumb, and the newcomer. “I thought you said he was close. You didn’t say he was here.”

Dark eyes gleamed wickedly at him. “Oh, so I was expected then?” He made an elegant bow. “Your humble servant, sir. Your son, Rupert? He has your nose, I think.”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” Spike muttered. He turned and hammered his fist on the door to the bedchamber. “You two; to me. Now. And get dressed first. We’ve got company.”

“Quite a party you have here,” Ethan murmured. “Why, I feel at home already.”

“Ethan –” Giles out out a wavering hand.

“Oh, no, Rupert.” Ethan flashed him a cold smile, the mannered airs falling away. “You were correct. I come not to embrace you, but to bury you. I’ll not take your hand.”