Midnight Flit Page 5

  "Well yes." Briers sounded unperturbed, which was a comfort. "Conditions are pretty awful if you look at the big picture. Just as, if you look at the reports sent back from our opposite numbers at home, England is tottering on the edge of revolution - but actually it's very much business as usual where travel and trade are concerned."

  Bassett gave them a bright smile. "Honestly, it will be fine. If one is going to travel through uneasy territory it's almost always a little safer to do it as luxuriously as possible. I've arranged for a private compartment, there's a dining car, and the food is decent. I hope you'll be comfortable. We've also booked you into the Nagy Szalloda in Budapest. Overnight stay to have a chance to ablute properly, a grand evening of dining and dancing then a nice easy trip on the Orient Express."

  Which sounded very reasonable, and Ma certainly had no doubts.

  "The Grand, how marvellous!" Ma smiled. "I've always enjoyed staying there. The staff are so attentive."

  "And it'll be a first for me." Briers nudged Bassett. "The Old Man's really pushing the boat out. Lady S should contrive to get kidnapped more often."

  "If it's all the same to you," Ma said, "I'd prefer not. The Grand, Miles! Remember staying there?"

  Miles smiled at her. "I do, it was marvellous, but are you sure our wardrobes are up to the standard required by the Grand?"

  "Oh, good grief, I hadn't thought of that. It seems a pity to have to dine in one's rooms." She speculated for a moment than clapped her hands. "Simple. We'll summon Pritchard. He'll bring what we need and meet us there."

  "That's a bit short notice, Ma."

  "Not for Pritchard," Ma said. "I don't think you ever understood what a wrench it was for us to give him up to you. I hope you appreciate him properly."

  "Oh yes," Miles said with a glance at Briers, "I really do."

  "Brilliant." Briers clapped his hands together. "So if Bassett can contact Pritchard - and give him my regards, please, old man - and he can bring what you need, you'll be all de rigeur and everything. Did the messages to the embassy go through?"

  "They did," Bassett said. "The Old Man spoke to the embassy himself, and managed to get the Ambassador on the phone. He was very relieved to hear that you are safe and asks that you pass on his thanks to everyone involved. Also that he's looking forward to hearing that you're safe in London." He smiled at Lady Siward again and added, "If you'd like to write a note I can make sure it'll be in Bucharest by tomorrow night."

  "Oh yes, please." Ma got up and borrowed Briers's notebook and pen then hurried into the bedroom where her luggage had been stored.

  "Poor lady," Bassett said, once the door had closed behind her. "She must be so distressed."

  "Well yes," Miles said. "She's probably appreciating a bit of privacy, but she also needed her code book."

  "A code book," Briers let out a whoop of laughter. "Why am I not surprised?"

  "Why shouldn't Ma and Pa have their own cipher?" Miles demanded, aware that Bassett was still staring at him. "It's a good one - took me a whole month to break."

  "I can’t bring to mind many households where that might be considered necessary," Bassett said, adding, "You know, Siward, you do look absolutely extraordinary. Ow!" He rubbed his shoulder where Briers had punched him. Miles, slightly annoyed because he didn't feel that he needed anyone to stand up for him, folded his arms and took a slightly more manly stance.

  "It's officially sanctioned," he said, dropping his voice to his normal register. "I have my papers and my legend is set up because one never knows when an enemy needs taking unawares. And besides, what on earth has my appearance to do with my code breaking ability?"

  "Oh, nothing, of course, old chap." Bassett grinned. "I'm just a bit startled, that's all. That skirt - well - I honestly wouldn't have looked twice at you if I was looking for the Ambassador's son. Too busy looking at your legs. That's not to say that you don't look absolutely stunning."

  "If a little fast," Briers said. Miles didn't think it was his imagination that Briers's tone was terse when he added, "Which reminds me, Bassett. Any chance of getting another frock for Siward here? As you have so tactfully pointed out, this set is a little snug, and it makes sense for him to continue travelling as he is."

  "I don't see why not, as long as you give me back some of those lavish expenses. I'm assuming you'd like me to go to one of the better modistes?"

  "I don't need much, but I would prefer quality," Miles said. "And ready-made sizing might be different here, so I think measurements will be better. I'll make a list."

  "Very good." Bassett grinned. Miles preferred to think of it as a grin rather than a leer. "I'll use my imagination for colours and so forth; personally I like to see blondes in blue. My reputation as a ladies man is going to soar!"

  Briers grunted, reached out and grabbed Bassett's lapel to draw him in close. "If you don't mind, Bassett, can this stay just between ourselves? There aren't that many people in on the secret so it would be much appreciated if you kept it to yourself. Aces up sleeves, and all that."

  "Mum's the word, I assure you," Basset licked a finger and crossed his heart. "I'll let them think I have a mistress."

  "Quality, Bassett," Miles reminded him.

  "Never fear. I know just the thing. Oh I say, Lady Siward, are you done already?"

  "I am." She offered Bassett the sealed envelope. "I sent your regards, too, Miles. If it could be sent with all dispatch I would be most grateful."

  "I'll put it in the pouch myself," Bassett promised.

  Miles wrote down his measurements, plus a list of the bare minimum he would require for his wardrobe, while Bassett and Briers hung a grey cloth over the top of the sitting room door as a backdrop and took the necessary photographs of Ma. Then Bassett stowed the compact little Leica away, tucked the envelope and list into his inside pocket, and took his leave.

  Ma watched him go with her hands clasped under her chin, but braced herself visibly when she saw that Miles had noticed.

  "I don't suppose anyone has given any thought to lunch?" she asked. "Someone promised me blackberry tarts."

  Briers rolled his eyes. "Dammit - I should have got Bassett to shop for food, too." He felt for his wallet and reached for his hat. "Ten minutes. Keep the door locked - and Miles, there's a Browning in my dresser drawer; get it out, there's a good chap."

  "Very well," Miles said and reached into his mother's handbag to produce his own. "I'll feel more intrepid with one in each hand."

  #

  After that it was a very domesticated day. Briers shopped with such dispatch that Miles was reminded of Briers's comment about missing breakfast - either that, or he hadn't had to go far. Lunch was simply achieved by putting the items on plates - delectable little sausages, still hot, rolled into flatbreads with a garnish of onions, followed by the promised blackberry tarts. Ma was delighted with them, and they picnicked with plates on their knees, listening to the local wireless station. They kept themselves busy all through the afternoon and evening, discussing and practicing their cover stories, listening to a concert on the radio, commenting on news stories, preparing and then eating supper. They even had a glass of local brandy to round the meal off, and played a few rounds of whist. It was wonderful, and Miles knew that it would have been all too easy to fall even further into his Millie persona. Sitting at the table with Briers's knee snug against his, Miles wanted to smile and tease and to take his hand, in the natural way that hundreds of loving couples did every day. Twice he caught himself, and once Briers, performing those intimate little acts that betray fond familiarity - passing the salt before one was asked, not needing to enquire about preferences for drinks and making frequent smiling eye contact. The effort of remembering not to do it weighed upon him and he grew quiet and terse and made mistakes in his cardplay that Briers and Ma exploited gleefully.

  "I don't think you could be losing worse if I was cheating," Briers said, as he totted up his tricks.

  "You're not, are you?" asked Ma.

 
"Never with a lady." Briers grinned. "But I have been known to deal from the bottom of the pack if circumstances called for it."

  "See, Ma, he's a thoroughly dangerous character and not to be trusted." Miles muffled a yawn with the back of his hand, then reached for the pack. "Shall I deal?"

  As he had hoped, Ma yawned too. "I think I ought to turn in," she said. "Last night wasn't exactly restful."

  Miles looked up from the cards just as Briers did, and he was surprised there weren't sparks as their gaze connected. "No it wasn't," Miles said. "But I don't want to sleep just yet. A couple of hands of Baccarat, Briers?"

  While Ma pottered about getting ready for bed, Miles and Briers dealt the cards and played for pennies. Miles lost quite heavily, but then his mind wasn't really on his cards. His attention was divided between Ma's activities, because he felt he should be available to wish her a good night and provide some reassurance that he and Briers would get her safely on the way tomorrow, and the toe of Briers's shoe stroking his ankle.

  On other occasions, their meetings had been planned for and expected. Miles had been able to imagine ahead of time what might happen and how they might, finally, ecstatically, come together. He'd filled in details and had enlivened otherwise terribly dull days in the office with thoughts that were, frankly, filthy, and added a whole new meaning to the phrase 'hard at work'. But now they were thrown together again with a lot at stake, and someone whom he loved as much as Briers who might be hurt, shocked or appalled if she got wind of what they were up to. How they would manage - if they should even try - made Miles feel quite apprehensive. Then he caught Briers's eye, and what he saw there drove all his worries out of his mind.

  "Well, that's me done." Ma popped her head round the door of the living room. "Bathroom is free. You have your bedding already, don't you?"

  "We have everything we need, Lady S," Briers assured her. "Don't worry about the morning. I'll bring in tea for you in good time for you to get ready."

  "Yes, Ma," Miles went to her to give her a quick peck on the cheek. "Get your rest. We need to be up early."

  "Thank you, my dears," Ma said. "Good night, sleep tight."

  Then she was gone and Miles shut the door to the hallway and turned back to Briers. "So," he said and stopped there because Briers was much closer than he had expected and approaching fast. Miles lifted his chin and their lips met before Briers's arms closed around his shoulders. A long, slow, steady kiss later, Briers sighed and pulled back.

  "I've been wanting to do that so much," he breathed. "Come on, let's get ready for bed."

  They each took their turn in the bathroom. Briers had provided Miles with pyjamas that hung on him and needed several turns on the trouser leg bottoms before he could walk. When he went back into the living room Briers looked up and let out a crack of laughter, but his eyes crinkled in an affectionate smile as he threw back one side of the covers of their makeshift bed. "Put out the light and lie down with me," he suggested, quite unnecessarily because Miles was already reaching for the light switch.

  There was just enough light from the street for Miles to see to pick his way. He settled on his side, feeling the warmth of Briers, just inches away, all down his front and because he really felt he needed to, he hooked a fingertip into the top of Briers's pyjama jacket. "I'm so glad to see you," he murmured. "Relieved to have got here safely, of course, but really - just glad to be here."

  "Ah, Miles," Briers hand settled on his hip then slid up under the pyjama jacket with gentle pressure to close the little gap between them. "I think you can probably feel how glad I am to see you."

  Pyjamas were very convenient things when it came to getting them off. Buttons were unbuttoned, ties were pulled loose, fabric was pushed aside and down and off. Skin to skin, Miles pressed his face into Briers shoulder and clamped his thighs tight around Briers's prick.

  "Ah, Miles," Briers said again and dropped a hand between them to take Miles in a firm and loving grasp.

  They surged against each other, muffling their mouths against each other's shoulders. Miles broke first, groaning deep and long against Briers's collarbone then gasping his gratitude into Briers's kiss. Briers was groaning too, and turned to place Miles on his back so he could bracket him between his forearms and his thighs to plunge more freely.

  "That's it," Miles breathed, glad Briers hadn't carried through on his suggestion about pillow-biting. Miles really preferred other ways of loving, so it had become a joke - or something they saved for times when they were sure of being undisturbed, when they had time to prepare properly and, it had to be said, limit the potential mess. It was a high days and holidays thing to do. But this - this was sheer bliss.

  "That's it. That's the way." Miles ran a hand down Briers's back and clawed his fingertips, scratching lightly.

  "Oh fuck," Briers whimpered, and stilled as he spilled. He lowered his head, still breathing heavily, and Miles wrapped his arm around it and drew it down to his shoulder.

  Miles felt squashed and sticky, breathless and bruised, despite the layer of bedding and the carefully positioned towels Briers had laid down. He also felt bloody marvellous.

  "Thank you," he whispered.

  "No - thank you," Briers said. "Can't remember the last time I came that hard."

  "I do," Miles said grinning at the street lamp light on the ceiling. "It was in that meadow above Chamonix when we were having a roll in that haystack and those hikers came along and had a picnic round the other side of it and we were both already too far along to stop. You said the same then. I think danger must sharpen the sensation for you, or something."

  "You think?" Briers shifted enough to bite Miles's ear. "I didn't notice you being a shrinking violet. I didn't notice you saying 'no, no stop it immediately'. I mean, if you'd really wanted me to stop I would have done."

  "Oh, but when would we have got another opportunity? Perfect haystack, perfect view of Mont Blanc. There were even goats."

  Briers snorted. "And you fulfilled an ambition you'd had ever since reading Heidi, you lovely little pervert, you."

  Miles chuckled. "You haven't heard the one about Ein Kampf um Rom yet. Come on, shift, I'm getting rheumatism from the damp."

  "In a moment." Briers hitched up, his expression unreadable in the dark but the hand that cupped Miles's jaw was gentle. "I haven't finished reassuring myself that you're all right. Miles, I really did think you were dead, and ... and I couldn't think straight. I couldn't imagine a world without you in it. Didn't want to."

  "Oh, Briers." Miles closed his eyes, imagining the boot on the other foot and wincing at the imagined pain. "I'm so sorry."

  He tilted his head, raising it slightly to encourage a kiss. It was a long sweet minute before he could speak again. Briers's kisses were gentle now their mutual hunger was sated, and Miles felt they could have done this all night - just the gentle kisses and brief loving touches as they each reassured the other that they were together again, and safe, and were loved.

  But they were also very sticky and getting cold as the mess cooled, so eventually they separated enough to make some repairs to themselves and their bedding. Briers wadded up the towels and cracked the window to let the room air, then turned back to the bed. Miles took a moment to admire what he could see of the long clean lines of him.

  "Oh don't look at me like that." Briers approached to stand over him. "We have to get up early and you've worn me out."

  Miles could just make out by the reflected light off the ceiling that his eyes were heavy, but crinkled at the corner in one of those discreet 'for his eyes only' smiles that Miles loved so much.

  "There's nothing wrong with looking," he said. "But yes, we should get some sleep. You stay on the cushions and I'll take the couch. Where did my pyjama jacket go?"

  Briers stooped to reclaim them and draped the pyjamas over his head. "Get those on and stay put," he ordered as he began to put his own pyjamas on. "The couch isn't long enough even for you to get a decent night's sleep on it. That's a
good enough excuse. Besides, I'm not ready to let you go yet."

  With their dress adjusted and the blankets arranged to their mutual satisfaction Miles relaxed with his head on Briers's shoulder, revelling in the tight grasp of the arms around his back.

  "Are you warm enough?" Briers asked.

  "Never better." He slid his hand across Briers's chest and gave him a bit of a squeeze. "I'm so sorry I gave you a fright."

  "This evening has done a lot to make up for it." Briers rested his lips against the top of Miles's head, his breath warm. "But you're not off the hook yet. I need as much of this," he gave Miles another squeeze, "as I can get. I'd just be happier if we knew who'd killed that chap you left tied up."

  "I would, too." Miles sighed, partly from annoyance but mostly from satisfaction at his comfortable position. "I didn't see anyone suspicious as we left the hotel, and you can believe me I was looking. But Ma - oh, Briers, she was actually enjoying herself playing at spies. I'd left two notes in a cipher I knew the embassy would have no problem breaking, and Ma left another for Father. It should have been easy. But these two men were on the station at Caracal and - you know how someone's behaviour can put you on edge? They were waiting for someone but looking too hard, and kept turning away whenever a porter passed. I might have taken a chance on my own, but Ma spotted them too and then I think she was a little scared. Luckily the guard didn't make difficulties about us staying on the train."

  "That would have been a nightmare." Briers drew in a long breath and expelled it in a yawn. "Not that you aren't fascinating, my darling, but it feels as though it's been a very long day. Good night and sweet dreams."

  "Goodnight," Miles murmured closing his eyes and shifting his head into a more comfortable spot. Once a night's sleep with his head on Briers's chest had left him with the distinct print of a pyjama button on his cheek that had taken an hour to fade completely, not something Miles felt able to deal with in his mother's presence.

  Briers didn't speak again, already well on his way to sleep, but he did turn his head to press another kiss into Miles's hair.