Page 121 of Men in Shorts

“Do I?” Andrew touched his own face, as though he could feel its paleness. “I’ll be fine. I just want out of here.”

“Then let’s go.”

“No, we leave with my family. It’s safer that way.”

Colin nodded, pressing his shoulder to Andrew’s to offer subtle support. Getting justice would help them move on, but it couldn’t be that simple. No prison sentence could erase the memories of that September evening.

“I’d rather hoped to make an immediate exodus from the building.” Lord Kirkross cast an anxious glance back at the courtroom door, where the journalists were now emerging, heads swiveling in search of prey.

“Shall I fetch security?” George asked his father.

“Too late for that.” Lord Kirkross drew himself up to his full height—even taller than his sons, which was saying a lot. “The buzzards are swooping.”

As the reporters rushed forward, calling their names, Colin felt Andrew shrink back. He put an arm around him, hoping to lend strength without making him look weak.

“Lord Andrew!” shouted the first journalist to reach them, a tall lass with fiery hair and an expression to match. “How did it feel seeing your brother-in-law hauled off to prison? Has justice been done?”

Lord Kirkross stepped forward. “I ask that you give our family the privacy we deserve, the privacy every victim’s family deserves.”

“But you’re not just thevictim’sfamily,” said a lanky young man who hadI blog in my mum’s basementwritten all over him. “You’re the accused’s family too. Is there a schism in the House of Kirkross?”

“Of course not,” the marquess said. “On the contrary?—”

“How will this incident affect the Tories’ chances in the general election?” another reporter asked.

“Let me finish,” Lord Kirkross said in a commanding voice that hushed his audience—for the moment, at least. “There are many who would like to make this case about politics. But at its heart, it is about family. Family have the power to hold one another up or tear one another down. In the wake of this betrayal, the House of Kirkross is more united than ever.”

Colin glanced at Andrew, who looked as though he’d rather be on Mars without a spacesuit just now.

“That’s all we’ve got to say.” Lord Kirkross began buttoning his black wool overcoat. “Now if you’ll excuse us?—”

“Actually.” Andrew stepped forward, holding his chin high. “I’ve a few words to share.”

“Here we go again,” George whispered. When Colin gave him an uneasy glance, the earl asked him, “What’s this about?”

Colin shrugged, keeping his mouth shut to listen.

“Thank you all for your support.” Andrew surveyed the gathered media as though they were his loyal subjects—which, to be fair, they often were. “It’s not been easy, these last few months. But I’ve learned valuable lessons. Firstly, the importance of family. I always fancied myself independent, but this ordeal has taught me how much I need them, how much we need each other.” He cast a loving glance at his brother and father—and then at his mother, who had just come out of the ladies’ to discover an impromptu press conference. “Secondly, I’ve learned that my boyfriend, Colin MacDuff, is the strongest man on the planet.”

Colin’s face warmed. As dozens of eyes turned his way, he felt Lady Kirkross’s hand slip inside the crook of his arm and give him an affectionate squeeze.

“Thirdly, I’ve learned…” Andrew paused. “No, this isn’t so much a lesson as it is a decision, one I’d like to make official right now.”

Lady Kirkross’s grip on Colin’s arm turned tight as a blood-pressure cuff. His own guts tensed as well. Andrew had mentioned nothing about an announcement. Still, knowing him, this could be fun.

“I once had great dreams of participating in politics,” Andrew said. “I’d hoped to serve my people in the Scottish Parliament, or even in Westminster. I’d joked about becoming this country’s first gay prime minister—well, firstopenlygay prime minister.”

Oh thiswillbe fun.Colin bit his lip, trying to maintain the stoic facade he’d practiced in the mirror yesterday.

“But all that’s changed,” Andrew continued. “Obviously I no longer feel at home in the Conservative Party, seeing as one of their operatives nearly killed my boyfriend. Furthermore, I vehemently disagree with their opposition to Scottish independence.”

“So you’re joining SNP?” shouted a reporter near the back of the crowd.

“The Scottish National Party has reached out to me numerous times,” Andrew said. “As tempting as it was to ride their rocket-fueled bandwagon to a place of power, I said no. I oppose as many SNP policies as I do Tory ones.” He smirked. “As for joining what’s left of the Labour Party, I’d sooner boil my head in Irn-Bru.”

Colin guffawed, then wiped away a smile.Thiswas his beloved drama queen who spoke without fear of consequences. Andrew had been sequestering himself for weeks, even staying offline to avoid making statements that could affect the legal case. But now with Reggie and Jeremy locked up, Andrew could once again shine like the diamond he was.

“My disillusionment runs deeper than any party’s actions or positions,” he continued. “You see, I disagree with my father’s assessment. What happened to me—what happened to Colin, rather—itwaspolitical. It happened because we live in an age when winning votes is more important than serving voters.”

---