Home Is the Sailor (3 page)

What are we going to do?
Neither said it. There was no need, and he was glad of it, for he had no answers.

The warmth of Davy’s body against his gradually thawed Marshall’s frozen soul, and life—sensation—began to return. Then, suddenly, like an ice-pack breaking on a frozen river, desire surged through him. His hands slipped down to Davy’s arse, and his lover’s hands on his own body mirrored his action. Their first real kiss in uncounted days left him breathless and hungry for more.

Davy pulled back a bit and started to loosen his neckcloth. “Let me,” Will said. With clumsy fingers he undid the knot and nuzzled Davy’s neck, savoring the scent that was uniquely Davy’s own.

Davy sighed and let his head drop back. “You’re growing bolder, sir.” He tugged at the laces at the back of Will’s breeches. “Shall we dispense with these?”

Touching, kissing, never quite letting go of each other, they managed to shed their clothing and leave it draped over the chair beside the table near the window.

They didn’t often have a room to themselves; he didn’t often get the chance to just look at Davy. Will held him at arms’ length and took advantage of the opportunity. He’d never get used to the short-cropped hair, even though Davy had assured him it was the fashion now. But that didn’t matter. Here he was, still a little too thin but golden and beautiful and his own dear love.

But for how much longer?

The fear made him desperate. He stepped back to the bed, pulling Davy down on top of him, his own body aching with desire. Davy responded eagerly, as he always did, and before very long Will was able to silence all the questions in his mind with the simple certainty of passion. They rocked together, their sweat and the pressure of skin on skin supplying all that was necessary. At some point Davy rolled onto his back and Will drove against him, feeling his lover rise to meet him. Honor, duty...what did any of it mean without this?

Davy gasped and dug his fingers into Will’s arse, and the warm surge of his release triggered Will’s own. He relaxed afterward, in the warm afterglow, rolling to one side so Davy would be able to move.

“Lovely,” Davy said. “Here, let me tidy us up.” He slid out of bed and Will, his eyes still closed, heard water pour into the washbasin.

“It’s cold,” Davy warned, before wiping off Will’s belly. And it was, too, but no more than he expected. Another precaution; they made it a habit to leave no evidence of their lovemaking. “Here’s your nightshirt.”

Will groaned and sat up, pulling the unwanted garment on before he flopped back down on the mattress. “Are you certain your family won’t be put out?” he asked, dog-tired and ready for sleep.

“Certain sure. It’s a big house. There’s room for you. Move over.”

He did, unconvinced. “Davy—”

“No, Will, honestly. When we first went aboard the
Mermaid,
I wrote my mother that I was back in England but might not have time to visit. When she wrote back—remember the hamper of food she sent for Christmas?—she said to come straight home if I got the chance, and bring you with me if I could. She’ll be thrilled, and so will my sisters.”

That sounded ominous, but Will could not keep his eyes open a moment longer. He curled himself against Davy’s warm back and took advantage of oblivion.

* * * * *

They spent most of the next two days aboard a small private vessel belonging to one of Sir Percy’s friends. Its owner was not aboard, but the first mate, Abernathy, made them welcome and gave them the liberty of the captain’s cabin, where their dunnage had been placed below the stern windows. “Be best if you stay belowdecks, I’m told,” Abernathy said cryptically, “even at night.”

“Very well,” Will said, “but if we’re to spend all our time here, might we have a couple of hammocks? That berth seems a bit small for the two of us.”

The first mate chuckled. “Yes, sir, we’ll have ‘em brought in right away. A bit small—indeed it is!”

He left, still full of mirth, and David scowled. “It
is
too small, more’s the pity. I’d hoped for a bit of luck in that direction.”

“No, hammocks are better,” Will said. “Why tempt fate? Anyone might walk in at any time.”

“It wasn’t fate I was hoping to tempt, but I suppose you’re right.” He sat on his sea-chest, as the ship’s movement and the faint sounds from the deck above told them they were getting under way. “Will, what do you propose to tell Sir Percy about our plans, once the
Mermaid
is seaworthy? If I’m to stay ashore I must resign, and I’d rather have some excuse other than having developed a sudden aversion to gunfire.”

“There’s no guarantee I’ll get command of her when she is repaired,” Will said. “And in any case, I think we’d better not discuss that here, either, with no hope of privacy—”

His point was demonstrated by a sailor bringing in the requested hammocks and hanging them on beams near the stern, one on either side of the cabin.

“That’s all very well,” David said, after the sailor had departed. “How do you propose we spend our time, then? I have a book or two, of course, but that doesn’t do you much good.”

Will looked around the cabin—pleasant enough, but no more than ten feet square—and smiled apologetically. “Sir Percy did say there were cards and a chess set in the drawer under the Captain’s berth.”

* * * * *

Their destination was Teignmouth; Abernathy brought them ashore, guided them to an inn, and gave them directions to the nearest livery stable, where they could hire transportation in the morning—before dawn, he advised.

And in all that time, Will uttered not one word about what was on both their minds. David had tried to bring it up once or twice, in the late watches when most of the ship was asleep, but Will only repeated his objections on the grounds of privacy. He did not want to risk doing anything else, either, which was prudent, if frustrating. Their lives were put in abeyance by circumstances beyond their control.

And those circumstances weren’t likely to improve in the near future. If a well-connected spymaster like Sir Percy indicated that one was walking around with a target painted on one’s back, only a fool would argue against evasive action. But if Will thought they were short of privacy here, he had no idea how restricted they would be at Grenbrook, with family everywhere and servants who might turn up around any corner.

What a relief that once they were in the small, sparsely-furnished room at the inn, Will’s apparent indifference vanished. After securing the door, Will began pulling his clothing off and made fierce, tender love to David, in almost total silence. He responded with enthusiasm, but the intensity worried him a little. Will had been like that back in Jamaica last year, the night before he’d said a goodbye that they’d both feared would be forever. He had become more withdrawn, more private, even in intimacy, and David was uneasy about what that might mean.

* * * * *

They were up early the next morning, and Marshall was eager to get on the road as soon as possible. Sir Percy had provided them with traveling expenses, sufficient funds to hire a post-chaise that would carry them directly to their destination. Grenbrook was somewhere north of Plymouth, in the general direction of Tavistock. Davy gave the post-boys very specific directions, but Marshall was as imprecise about directions on land as he was clear about nautical navigation. Davy knew where they were going, and that was sufficient. Marshall felt adrift, without ship or purpose, and he was content to let his lover take command.

But locked in a chaise, without another soul around to hear them, he could not avoid Davy’s questions—questions for which he had no answers. Not that Davy expected him to solve everything; that almost made it worse. Marshall felt that, since it was his failure of nerve that created their problem, he ought to have a solution, especially if he could not reconcile himself to the one his lover advocated.

Sitting opposite him in the chaise, Davy persisted. “It seems reasonable to me, Will. Much as I love my family—some of them, anyway—my father and I do not get on comfortably. I’ve money enough to live quietly in London, and even a place to live—the house my grandmother left me. It’s rented now, but there if I should need it. And if the Peace holds, so much the better—we could both live there, or use that rent to hire ourselves a snug little cottage nearer the sea.”

“It will never hold.”

Davy sighed patiently. “Then you will have to choose. If you go back to sea, I shall live alone, and haunt Portsmouth when your ship is expected back. I own it will be strange to know you are out there somewhere, in mortal danger, without me around to keep you out of trouble. I had hoped—” He caught himself, and there was an apology in his smile. “I should have believed you, Will. You did warn me.”

Will almost wished Davy would rail at him for his cowardice. “I am sorrier than I possibly express,” he said finally. “I know I should be more resolute. God knows we’ve seen enough carnage that I ought to be inured to it.” He turned away to watch the landscape rolling by outside the coach window. “I fear I’ve lost my nerve.”

“Oh, Will.” Davy shifted over to sit beside him, and took his hand. “I watched you. You were having a fine time, until I showed up. And truly, if I had seen you as thoroughly perforated as I was, I know I would feel the same. I do, in fact. The thought of you sailing off alone does not please me.” He reached over to close the shade at Will’s window and leaned in for a kiss as he did.

Will gave it gladly. They’d have no chance for this at Grenbrook. “Do you think we have time for..?”

“Oh, yes. Hours. I like closed coaches,” Davy said, his lips brushing against Will’s while his fingers unbuttoned Will’s waistcoat. “Remember the first one?”

“How could I forget? You seduced me!” They had become lovers while they were prisoners aboard a renegade’s ship; after their escape, they had attempted to go back to the warm but chaste friendship that they’d had for many years before that. Two days on the road, alone in a hired coach, had been more than their good intentions could withstand.

“
I?
Will, you’re a terrible liar. I remember quite clearly, it was you who closed the curtains.”

With a quick thrill of anticipation, Will did the same on the side that was still open. “Only because I knew you were about to do something rash,” he said. “But we are older and calmer now, are we not?”

“Indeed.” Even in the dimness, the mischief sparkled in Davy’s blue eyes. “I would never be so bold as I was then. I might muss my uniform.” He picked up one of the carriage blankets thoughtfully provided by the liveryman, for a fee, and placed it solemnly upon the floor. “There. My knees are safe. And now, Captain Marshall…” He knelt upon the blanket and surrendered to Will’s embrace.

Three years of loving David Archer had done nothing to damp the fire Will felt every time their bodies came together. That first time had been in late summer, this was in late winter; it made no difference. If anything, the lightning rushing through him was more intense because he knew the ecstasy that lay in store. Davy’s hands were on his back as their lips met, but they moved, down to the small of his back, sliding him forward on the seat so his cock pressed against Davy’s belly through the layers of their clothing. He arched forward at the contact, and Davy pulled back, laughing in the gloom. “Shall I seduce you again, Captain?” He brought his hands around beneath Will’s arms, thumbs brushing against his nipples.

“I—
oh!
—I don’t see how I can prevent you.”

“I’m very pleased to hear it.” Davy mouthed the tingling nubs through Will’s shirt as he unbuttoned his commander’s breeches. By the time he’d worked his cock free of the underclothes, Will was beyond rational thought. His fingers tangled in Davy’s hair as he let the rocking of the coach move him with the rhythm of his lover’s mouth. He gave up trying to think and simply let himself feel. The heat of Davy’s mouth, the cool rush of air, the building urgency—

He gasped as his body reached its release. Limp and satiated, he could do little more than shift to one side and pull Davy up to sit beside him. “Give me a moment,” he begged.

“Certainly.” Davy rested his head against Will’s. “I wish there were some way we could be more…athletic,” he said. “I’d love to feel you inside me. But I fear it’s not possible.”

“Certainly
not,
” Will said. “We’d tip the coach over. Besides, you’ve wrung me out.” But he was beginning to recover himself, and a quick caress showed that Davy was more than ready for action himself. Will tugged his lover’s shirt up out of his breeches, and slid his hands up under Davy’s clothing, stroking his flat, warm belly with the left while he attacked the fly buttons with the right. “We might have tried if you hadn’t been so hasty.”

“No.” Davy leaned against Will’s chest, his head tilted back in pleasure. “Wouldn’t dare. My uniform...We’ve only one quick stop to change horses before we—
Will!”
Will’s hand closed around him, and he twisted around to meet Will’s lips with his own. The conversation evaporated; Davy’s state of excitement required very little encouragement, and when Will reached one hand around to slide a finger inside at a critical moment, he lost composure altogether. Things might have been quite raucous if he had shouted into the air instead of Will’s mouth.

“Thank God for road noise,” he said fervently, when his quivering stopped. Will wondered how he managed to put two thoughts together under the circumstances, but Davy had always been better with words. They were becoming disgracefully adept at dalliance in a coach. The circumstances were ideal: curtains that could be closed, a gentle rocking motion ideally suited for close contact...not as comfortable as a room, perhaps, but in its own way even better. The post-boy was riding the lead horse; they ran absolutely no risk of being disturbed without warning.