Page 43 of Love Beneath the Guillotine
He slammed a hand down on the door, banging it three times, but the only sound that made reply was a voice he knew too well, rich and deep as good beef bourguignon. “If you want to see your barmaid again, get on the horse.”
22
THE NOT-SO-GREAT ESCAPE
Léon glowered up into Henry’s face. “What have you done with Souveraine?”
High on his stallion, haughty behind the cocked gun, Henry directed, “Mount.”
“No!” Léon passed furious and frantic eyes up the street. “Do you think this is smart for us to be seen associating? If one person recognises you, they’ll know what I’ve done.”
“Then you’d better come fast.” Henry shoved the gun into its holster and thrust out a hand.
Léon hated to take it, and would sooner have stuck his fist into a rotting carcass riddled with maggots. But there were voices at the top of the lane, and he had precious seconds to comply. He shoved a foot into the stirrup and grasped Henry’s wrist, which demonstrated unexpected strength when he pulled him up behind the saddle.
“Your horse can’t hold us both for long,” Léon warned.
“You let him decide that,” Henry muttered.
“Him?” Léon returned, but Henry had already kicked his heels into the steed, and off they flew. His cloak whipped up around Léon in the wind their fast pace created, and Léon sank into it, trying to hide his face, as though anyone who saw themcould have mistaken the naked back, blond hair, and shining axe for someone else. He clung to the base of the saddle, refusing to wrap his arms around Henry’s waist, even if it was likely to spell his death should he slip.
Their destination wasn’t far from the city centre. At a slow trot, a horse would have taken an hour to get there, but Henry pushed the stallion into a gallop just as soon as he found a clear path. They left the city behind in minutes, trees growing denser, the cool of the verdant surroundings making Léon huddle a little closer to Henry for warmth, hoping he wouldn’t notice.
They came across the turnoff to the woods, where Henry should have been waiting the entire time, had he not been a moron. There, Léon reached around him, grasping the reins. Henry shoved a fast elbow back, and Léon clamped down on him, hissing, “Stop here and dismount in great secrecy if you ever want to find Catherine.”
With an angry tic across his chiselled cheekbone, Henry pulled the horse up, the beast giving a whinny and a stomp at the abrupt halt, as though it had been craving the freedom and freshness of the woods. Léon slid a leg over the horse’s rump, jumping to the ground. Henry quickly followed, landing with an elegant spin and reaching straight for his gun. Léon shoved him back before he could get a hand to it. “What were you thinking, you idiot? You almost blew the whole thing!”
Surprised and outraged by the physical attack, Henry started forward over the few paces he’d lost. “I was thinking that I couldn’t trust you. And I’m yet to see any sign that I can.”
Léon held his ground, leaning close. “Did you see me kill her?”
“How do I know you weren’t about to? That you haven’t just bought some extra time to have your cronies come after me?”
Léon threw his hands up, a move that indicated all the trees and grass surrounding them. “Look around! Do you see anyone in pursuit?”
Henry scoffed, the irritating prig. “Only because I kidnapped you before you could do it.”
Léon slapped a hand against his forehead. “Oh my god, how can anyone be so—” There was a loud slam, the sound of wood hitting metal, the source hidden around a bend.
Unlike Henry, Léon knew exactly what it was, and when Henry opened his mouth to deliver an ‘I knew it!’ or some sort of violent ultimatum, Léon threw a desperate hand across his lips and shoved him back into the bushes. He tripped over a bramble, which caught at both his and Henry’s boots, and Henry toppled backwards, head narrowly missing a jagged fallen branch and instead landing on a pillow of soft ferns. Léon slammed down on top of him, bare chest against silk shirt, leather breeches sliding against leather breeches, and he froze there, his fingers squeezing Henry’s shocked lips into silence.
Léon dipped his mouth to Henry’s ear and barely breathed, “Quiet.”
Henry could feel Léon’s heart beating violently against his chest, and though his first instinct had been to throw him over, shove him into the bushes and run back to the open path, every physical reaction of Léon’s felt so real and so panicked that he halted.
Léon dipped his head low against Henry’s shoulder, and whether he’d wanted to crawl off him or not, Henry had no clue, but Léon didn’t move in the slightest. His breath tickled across Henry’s neck, and Henry shifted his head back to attempt to whisper, but Léon only closed his hand tighter over his mouth, raised pleading eyes, and shook his head.
There came the sound of a cart. Distant, but unmistakable, rattling along the rocky forest path. Henry’s heart skipped abeat, and Léon felt it just as Henry had felt his. Henry’s eyes widened with a new and wondering examination of Léon, who held his gaze, half terrified Henry would mess the whole thing up with a sudden word or movement, half drawn into something of an unexpected intimacy, the two of them hiding in the forest, and now, Henry having understood him.
The cart drew closer, the wheels louder, and Henry’s gaze never left Léon. Henry, whatever he was thinking, hid none of his interest, and Léon felt too close, too hot, crushingly aware of his nakedness against Henry, his thigh across his groin. And then he remembered his fantasy all over again. Those same eyes, lust-drunk, holding Léon down in the alleyway, forcing his mouth open with a violent kiss, pushing him to his knees…
Léon blushed pink, then dropped his head to hide it as the cart reached the pinnacle of its approach, all while Henry’s breath ran hotly over his shoulder, sending a guilty shiver through him, desperate as he was to stop touching him while thinking those thoughts.
But he had no idea Henry was fighting the flashes of his own dream from that very morning. The imagined taste of Léon was fresh on his lips, but now the feel of his body against him, really against him, the thought of Léon’s dick in his mouth, the image of his neck rocking back in ecstasy…
Léon tracked the movement of Henry’s Adam’s apple as he swallowed, too ashamed of the heat in his body to notice that of Henry’s, two men trying hard to think of anything that would stop their dick hardening against the other. Meanwhile, the cart rumbled on, and after what felt like an eternity, Léon slipped off onto the leafy undergrowth of the forest, trying to untangle himself as impersonally as possible, scarlet beside Henry’s tight-lipped paleness. They separated as far as the tiny space would allow, both drowning in the unexpected reaction neither had any inkling the other had felt.
A thick silence reigned until the last rattle of the cart had faded, and Henry mumbled, “How did you know it was there?”
