Bone Idol (5 page)

Albert frowned. “I don’t understand. Too risky?”

The reverend’s eyes slid evasively to one side. Albert had a strange feeling that, whatever was worrying his father, it wasn’t the tale of a silly suspicion he had just spun for his son.

“They’re a pair of bloody catamites!” Gideon Dawlish was elated. He had witnessed the incident on deck, and his rather bulbous, gooseberry-coloured eyes had seen more clearly than those of the elderly and bespectacled Reverend Arthur Boundry.

Maude Dawlish knew that when her husband was in this gleeful, effervescent mood she was safe from his petty cruelties, but she couldn’t spare herself that pain at another’s expense.

“You have no reason to say such a thing,” she retorted.

“Oh, the old man doesn’t know it. Not sure they know it themselves yet, but you mark my words, within the week they’ll be buggering each other silly.”

“Gideon, you must not say such things. Your idle gossip could mean prison for them both, not to mention the scandal, the public censure…” Besides, she thought with a shudder, it wasn’t as though he didn’t have a taste for some fairly beastly practices himself.

Gideon laughed, a gargling, self-satisfied sound. “There’ll be no need for prison, my dear, or public censure either. Not as long as young Mr Elkington has deep enough pockets—and we both know he has.”

Maude knew her husband—knew him right down to his shrivelled, greedy heart—but she was genuinely shocked. “You intend
blackmail
?”

“Oh, come now,” replied her husband. “Blackmail is such an
ugly
word. Let us rather say that Mr Elkington will find it convenient to show his…his
appreciation
to a truly
discreet
friend.”

“You disgust me,” Maude said, her voice low and trembling.

Gideon sneered. “It’ll teach you to throw your money away on fanciful bone hunts,” he said. “I intend to make this expedition pay, rather than cost. And, in the meantime, I think it would be wise to keep that old fool Boundry and Mr Henry Elkington at one another’s throats. Knowing that his lover’s father hates and distrusts him will only make him the keener to keep his dirty little secret.”

“I can’t bear this anymore,” Maude cried, and was horrified by the tremulous, shrill voice that sounded so unlike her own.

“Keep your voice down, you stupid woman,” he hissed. “In fact, hold your tongue altogether if you know what’s good for you.”

She glared at him mutinously, but his anger frightened her. She knew she wouldn’t have the courage to speak out. The only way she could defy him was to keep control of her money, and he couldn’t stop her doing that. Not even if he hurt her.

“There is money to be had in this dig business. Whoever said you cannot cheat an honest man was a fool. When discoveries go missing from the site, Boundry will be too busy blaming Elkington to think of looking at me. I’m their
patron
, after all. And Elkington will not want his…predilections known. Not on top of the old man’s suspicion of him. Oh, the old man is almost
too
easy to manipulate.” He gave a smile that was closer to a snarl. “Do not cross me on this, woman.”

The Union Pacific Railway, June 1876

The train was a filthy, heaving brute, all smoke stacks and pistons. Everything was covered in a thin layer of coal dust and grime. Albert’s father was supervising the loading of their luggage, while Henry spoke to a gentleman in a peaked cap whom Albert assumed was something to do with the railway.

The railway man was practically bowing and scraping, but soon he seemed more at ease. Then he headed back into the station house and returned with a bundle of papers.

Quite a large bundle of papers. Henry nodded and shoved half of the papers into the inside pocket of his jacket, half into his trouser pocket. Then he clapped the railway man on the back and shook him firmly by the hand, grubby though it was. Albert caught himself watching and looked away.

Gideon Dawlish leaned nonchalantly against a carriage, smoking a cigar and gazing into space, making no move to help with the arrangements. His eyes were half-lidded as he watched the goings-on with lazy complacency. Maude was twisting a handkerchief between her hands, and her brow was creased.

Albert’s father laid his hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “What an adventure!” he exclaimed, and Albert turned to see his eyes twinkling. “This train will take us all the way out to Wyoming. There are sites there where fossils are practically lying around on the ground for the taking! Our camp will not be far from the tracks.”

Abruptly, the reverend shook himself. “We must get ourselves settled on the train. We have a long journey ahead of us. There will be so much to see along the way!” Then his brow furrowed, and he looked troubled again.

He was asleep before the train had been going for ten minutes. He snored gently, his mouth half open, his chin dropped towards his chest. Albert could not for the life of him understand how he could possibly sleep while being jostled and banged around by the frantic, jumbled motion of the train.

He stood, holding on to a dangling strap to steady himself, and reached out to smooth a clump of his father’s white, baby-soft hair, which was sticking up in a comical cow-lick. He did not stir. He looked so vulnerable asleep, and so old, that Albert’s heart constricted. He was determined he would not let anything hurt the old man, and if he was to protect him—

whether his father liked it, even whether he knew it or not—Albert had to know exactly what the situation was. Why had Henry decried his father, in print, for all the world to see?

He left the compartment and slid the door quietly shut, not wanting to wake the slumbering reverend. He did not know where Henry would be, but the windows in each door would enable him to find him easily enough. He made his way unsteadily down the corridor, swaying from side to side and slapping at the walls with his hands to keep his balance.

The train shuddered and rattled, making an unholy clattering, chuffing noise as it hurtled down the tracks. Even so, when he caught sight of their progress, Albert felt shocked and a bit sick at the speed at which they were travelling.

He passed several empty compartments before he came to the one where Henry sat looking out of the window, rapt, at the alien landscape that flowed past with such astonishing speed.

For a moment, Albert took in the way the cloth of his jacket strained across his shoulders, the straight spine, the long, elegant legs outstretched and crossed at the ankle. A funny little bolt of electricity sparked and fizzed low in his body. Hoping he was not blushing, he raised his hand to knock. Then he changed his mind and, sliding open the compartment door, slipped inside.

Henry turned, startled, then rose smartly to his feet, extending his hand. “Albert?”

He seemed so quietly pleased to see him that Albert felt almost guilty, as he took his hand, about his mistrust and about what he had come here to say. Henry’s fingers were warm and firm on his, and seemed to linger a touch longer than politeness would dictate.

He took a deep breath and braced himself, reluctantly looking the other man firmly in the eye. “Mr Elkington—I must speak to you on a matter of some importance.”

Henry obviously noted the ‘Mr Elkington’ and he cocked his head to one side, a question in his eyes. Then his expression changed and he gave an uncharacteristically playful smile. His voice, when it came, was husky and low. “Whatever you may require of me, www.total-e-bound.com

Albert, name it.” He spread his hands to either side as though to indicate his person. “I am yours to command.”

I am yours
. Albert’s heart gave a hop, and suddenly his breathing was shallow, as though he could not draw enough air into his lungs. Why was it he thought an answer to his questions was not the only thing being offered? He was being absurd—surely he was being absurd.

He was unreasonably drawn to Henry, to the hard security of his body, and he swallowed to stop himself from voicing his question aloud—what are you offering me, Henry? What do we have to offer each other? His gaze went to Henry’s plump lower lip, and he saw him notice; saw his lips curve in a smile.

He blinked and pulled himself back to the matter at hand. How should he approach this? From what angle? He shook his head. Subtlety had never been his forte.

“Why did you ruin my father?”

Henry’s eyes darkened with dismay. The shock on his face was clearly unfeigned; was not the sort of emotion one could play-act.

“Ruin him?” He frowned and parted his lips to make a denial, then he hesitated and awareness came into those blue, blue eyes. “Oh—the paper.
Streptosaurus boundrii
.”

“Yes, I—Henry, why did you do it? Why did you expose his mistake to the whole world like that? Couldn’t you have been kind?”

“Kind.” It was not a question. It was more as if he was tasting the word. He glanced down, his expression unreadable. “Kind.”

When he raised his eyes again, Albert was shocked to see the anger in his gaze, cold and implacable. It sent a bolt of physical dismay through him, and he almost took a step back, but held his ground.

“You think I should have kept quiet, perhaps?” said Henry. “That I should have allowed his research to stand? Your father is a well-known man in bone-hunting circles. He has the respect of his peers, and younger men look to him for guidance.”

Now it was Albert’s turn to sound bitter. “Not anymore.” He actually took a step towards Henry, but he misjudged and found himself standing uncomfortably close to him.

He had to tilt his head back to look into his eyes, to challenge him, but he refused to back down. “You made sure of that.”

“You would have had me stand back and watch him lead the whole science down a blind alley, as less brilliant men built on his flawed paper? Let sentiment stand in the way of truth? I couldn’t.”

His voice was still low, but it shook with indignation, and as Henry leaned in to him, Albert could feel the heat of his anger, feel the tension as he held himself in check.

“You should have allowed him to keep his dignity. You should have spoken to him alone and allowed him to escape the ridicule of his peers. Instead, you in your arrogant, overbearing, thoughtless—”

The breath was knocked out of him as the train gave a particularly violent jolt, and he was thrown forward against Henry, tumbling him back into his seat and landing square in his lap, their lips a fraction of an inch apart.

Stunned, Albert tried to scramble away, to regain the thread of his tirade, but Henry pulled him hard against his chest and pressed his hot, open mouth to Albert’s.

At first he froze, held utterly still by the shocking thrill of the contact, stunned by the sudden clenching of his body and the wanton pleasure he took in the feel of Henry’s mouth.

Then he pushed at Henry’s chest, but Henry wrapped one strong arm around him and wound the fingers of his other hand into his hair, holding him close so that his hands were trapped between them.

Henry leaned his head back and looked into Albert’s face. The pupils of those blue eyes were dilated, and the stoked passion smouldering in them made him feel short of breath.

Henry drew Albert gently towards him by the hair, hardly pulling, and, to Albert’s shock, he flicked his tongue against his upper lip in a gesture so intimate, so erotic, that he couldn’t help but let out a little moan of arousal, his lips parting.

Taking advantage of the opening, Henry slipped his tongue into Albert’s mouth and let it play against his, slick and strong. Stilled at first by the novelty of the sensation, Albert tilted his head as a throb of desire started low in his body, and pressed his tongue tentatively against Henry’s.

Henry rewarded him with a low, animal groan and deepened his kiss, his lips firm and moist, his breath hot. He released Albert’s hair and drew his fingers down the nape of his neck, making him shiver and flinch with a feeling so electric and erotic that it made him press closer, wanton and wanting.

Henry drew his mouth away to a whimpered protest, which subsided as he trailed a line of soft kisses along Albert’s jaw and down his throat, nipping at the soft flesh. Albert squirmed in his lap. Henry inhaled sharply and murmured incoherent words against his throat, then held him close and buried his face in his neck. He was utterly still, his muscles hard with the tension of holding him so, and shaking with the force of his desire.

Against the backs of his thighs, Albert could feel Henry’s hard length, and it made his own cock harden and twitch, almost painful as it rubbed ever so subtly against the constraining material of his trousers. Uncertain, Albert stroked Henry’s hair, soothed him, held his head to him and petted him, and gradually he felt the tension melt away. After some time, Henry lifted his head. He looked wild and desperate and somehow unhappy. Albert moved to kiss away that expression, but Henry shook his head and set him on his feet, rising from his seat.

Perplexed and a little hurt, Albert went unthinkingly to move into his arms, but Henry stood back from him.

“No…no.”

But your eyes are saying yes.

“I have to go. I can’t bear this.” He paced to the door, flung it open, hesitated, turned.

Albert stood there feeling limp and spent and unbearably, restlessly aroused.

“Albert.”

Had he done something wrong? Disgusted him? Bored him? Henry’s kisses and touches had transported him. He couldn’t have stopped on his own account for anything. It seemed that Henry hadn’t felt the same way. Albert could have cried.

“Albert.”

Reluctantly, he met Henry’s gaze. He looked serious, and solemn, and heartbreakingly tousled and beautiful. “I went to your father privately after I had seen his final reconstruction. I told him again that I thought he was wrong. He wouldn’t listen. He was determined to publish. I had no choice.”

His gaze drifted to Albert’s lips once more, and his voice dropped to a husky, emotional whisper, so that Albert could not be sure what he was talking about—his father, or him. “I could not help it.”

Medicine Bow, Wyoming, June 1876