There was nothing wrong with him. Not with his leg, or any other fine inch of him that Lee could see, astride him in their big double bed. The hour was rising midnight, Midsummer’s Eve arriving in great pulses of energy, hot winds from the moor. All his tests had come back clear. He was Lee’s magnificent lover, moving beneath him with slow, massive strength, cock rammed deep and perfect into his flesh. Throwing back a hand, Lee steadied himself against one powerful thigh, tracing the scar tissue there. “Hold still,” he ordered. “Want to make it last.”
“Long as you like.” Gideon released his hold on Lee’s hips. He tucked his hands behind his head in a smiling parody of a man entirely at his leisure. He spread his knees a bit, cradling Lee’s back, making him comfortable. “Feel like a fake now, playing hooky from work. Having to be brought home like a kid by the school nurse.”
“You were genuine enough when you got back. Fever, aches and pains, talking all kinds of bollocks about John Tregear... I nearly called an ambulance, but five minutes later you were crashed out here, cool as a cucumber and snoring.”
Gideon laughed, the vibration of it sending all kinds of wild signals up through Lee’s core. “Great. I was serious about Tregear, though. Who came to relieve Jenny Spargo?”
“Constable Rhys, believe it or not.”
“Really? He’s been on duty all day.”
“Well, he volunteered. Said he owed you one for Ross Jones.”
“He’s not wrong. I felt bad about busting the poor sod, but the place was like a jungle.” He shifted, a tremor of desire running through him. “Oh, lover. I’m gonna have to screw you through the mattress in a minute.”
“Full recovery, then?”
“For now. What’s wrong with me? In the intervals of thinking I’m dying, I feel better than I ever have done in my life.”
“Half a gift horse is better than none, I guess.” Lee spread his hands on tight-locked belly muscles, caressing, forbidding movement. A trace of fever remained in Gideon’s eyes, strange golden lights chasing through the deep brown. “I’m treating your ma to high tea at Trebah tomorrow. They’re opening up the main house for the day. Chamber music and four-tier cake stands—will that do as a diversion?”
“Did she take the bait?”
“After a bit of soul-searching, yes. I said Tamsyn needed the civilising influence, living with two great hairy blokes as she does.”
“You’re a cunning diplomat. I’d still be grateful if you didn’t talk about my ma while I’m fucking you.”
Lee grinned and wedged himself more firmly into place. “Oh, was somebody fucking me? You’ve been lying there like Lord Muck for so long, I nearly bloody forgot.”
Gideon drew an outraged breath. He came to life like a summer storm between Lee’s thighs. Effortlessly he dumped him down onto the mattress, rolling to follow, pinning him deliciously with all his weight. A few ploughing strokes did the trick for both of them. They shuddered together in climax, laying bruise to bone, crushing cries to skin-muffled groans so as not to wake their daughter. When they were done, Lee kept Gideon held tight where he was, forbidding his withdrawal. “Gid, I’m so fucking scared.”
A pulse-racked silence fell in the room. Gideon broke it at length, painfully, the fear in his own voice unhidden. “Talk to me.”
“I can take Tamsyn, and I can take Ma Frayne, and I can get them out of the way. Not you, though. Not you.”
“Sweetheart, I’d never ask you to look into the pit. You know that, don’t you?”
“Yes. I know.”
“But if you’re looking there anyway... is there something to be scared of? Can you tell me anything at all that’ll help me keep people safe?”
“No! Nothing. Not even a monster for you to unmask.” Suddenly exhausted beyond endurance, Lee let Gideon go. What had he been hoping for—that their physical connection might somehow burn off the fog, put a face to the haunting blank patch in his mind? “All I’ve got is vague bloody terrors, and all I can do to protect you is ask you to stay home. And that’s not enough, is it? You won’t.”
He eased out from under and curled up. Already shame was consuming him. He was being useless and unfair, asking the impossible. He knew the score, didn’t he? For God’s sake, he was married to a cop.
A bloody patient one, too. Gid was settling protectively around his back, wrapping him in an embrace he didn’t deserve. Lee’s day had been a long one, what with visions, right-wing visitors to his kitchen table, and the heart-stopping chill of seeing an unexpected patrol car pull up outside his door. How would Jenny Spargo or DI Lawrence tackle that horrendous job? Must be far worse when it was one of their own. I’m so sorry, Lee. I don’t know how to tell you...
He buried his face in the crook of Gideon’s elbow. Sleep came to the aid of overtaxed imagination, and he let his husband’s caress bear him off into the dark.