Page 37 of A Gathering Storm
He must have sensed Nick’s attention because he returned Nick’s glance, a smile just touching his lips, a faint question in his eyes—till his attention was arrested by something over Nick’s shoulder, something that made him give one of his odd croaky laughs and exclaim, “Bloody hell, where’s he off to?”
Nick turned his head, looking for whatever it was. A second or two passed before he saw it: Snow, running hell for leather after a white-tailed rabbit he was nowhere near fast enough to catch. Actually no, it was two rabbits. The dog swung his head from side to side as the rabbits diverged, now running in different directions, before picking one and pelting after it.
Nick laughed too. “He can’t resist a rabbit. Don’t worry, he’ll come back once he tires out.”
They were nearing the Hole now. Nick pointed at one of the lightning rods Ward had erected around the crevice.
“Why did you put those up?”
“The rods? So I can work out here in a storm without fear of being struck. They should draw off any lightning strikes before they get anywhere near a person.”
The pointless fence round the Hole had been removed now, so Nick was able to step right up to the edge and peer inside without having to clamber over anything. And yes, there were the upper platforms Ward had spoken of, three of them, the first perhaps eight feet from the top and the next two at similar intervals further down.
Ward explained how the platforms were constructed and pointed out the ladders attached to the craggy wall of the crevice from which each platform could be accessed in turn.
“Very impressive,” Nick said. “Though I’m still doubtful you’ll be able to hypnotise me down there.” He glanced at Ward to share his amusement, but the man wasn’t looking at him—he was looking past Nick, his expression first merely frowning, then suddenly horrified.
“Oh hell,” he said, launching himself past Nick at a run. “Snowflake, stop!”
Nick whirled around on his heel as Ward sped past him to see that Snow’s sturdy white body was barrelling towards them, far too fast. With his blind eye on the side of the crevice, and his whole attention on the rabbit that streaked ahead of him, the dog didn’t seem to realise he was about to hurtle over the edge.
Ward pitched himself at Snow.
“Ward, no!” Nick yelled—he was already running, but he was one endless second behind Ward and could only watch as Ward’s upper body slammed down on the ground in front of Snow, bringing the dog up short, and his legs slid into the mouth of thezawn, his weight immediately dragging him down.
“Ward!” Nick yelled again, closing the distance between them as Ward scrabbled for purchase, desperate fingers clawing at the short, rough, cliff top grass, while his boots sent clods of mud and rocks tumbling down the yawning chasm.
Nick threw himself to the ground beside Ward, grabbing for the man just as he was about to slide right in. Somehow he managed to grasp one of Ward’s wrists, then reached down with his other hand to seize his elbow.
“Grab me with your other arm!” he cried. There was no platform below Ward, only the sheer drop to the sea below.
Gasping, Ward obeyed, reaching up to grip Nick’s sleeve with his free hand. Nick’s body shifted forward an inch or two in response to the man’s weight pulling at him, and he cursed. How could such a reed-slim man feel so suddenly, overwhelmingly heavy?
Ward stared up at him, green-gold eyes wide with panic. “I don’t want to pull you down!”
“You won’t,” Nick hissed, wrapping his free arm round a rocky outcrop at the edge of the crevice. “I’m steady now—but you have to try to pull yourself up. I can’t hold you like this for too long.”
Ward nodded. He looked terrified, but he firmed his jaw and swung his legs a few times—making Nick feel as though his arm was about to be torn out of its socket—till he managed to brace one foot against the wall of the crevice to steady himself. Then, white-faced, he used the wall and Nick’s aching arm and shoulder to slowly haul himself up, knotting his fingers into the sturdy tweed of Nick’s coat, and finally winding one arm round Nick’s neck, his grip painfully hard, the side of his face pressed up against Nick’s.
“Almost there,” Nick panted against Ward’s cheek, relief flooding him at that needy embrace. He began to edge his own body backwards in tiny increments, until Ward was able to inch his hips over the edge of the Hole, then get one leg up and over. Only then did Nick loosen his death grip on the rocky outcrop, bringing his other arm around Ward’s upper back and yanking him all the rest of the way out, out of that greedy maw.
Nick rolled onto his back, away from the edge, dragging Ward with him till Ward lay on top of him, his chest to Nick’s, their faces so close the ends of Ward’s dark-gold hair brushed Nick’s forehead. They were both breathing hard, and Nick’s heart was pounding with exhaustion and fear—and something else too. An undeniable excitement at Ward’s nearness, at the intimacy of his body lying flush against Nick’s while he stared into Nick’s eyes.
Neither of them pulled away. Neither sought to bring to an end this moment that had already stretched too long.
There was a question in Ward’s eyes.
Nick didn’t really make a decision as such. It was instinct that drove him to grasp Ward by the back of his neck and haul him into a hard, desperate kiss. He half expected Ward to wrench himself away, maybe even hit Nick. But it seemed Nick’s instincts were all right, because Ward didn’t do any of those things. Instead, he melted against Nick with a helpless groan, bringing their bodies even closer together and fisting his hands around the lapels of Nick’s tweed coat as he returned the kiss with urgent fervour.
Ward’s mouth was hard—painfully so—pressing Nick’s lips against his teeth. Nick drew back a little, then parted his lips to soften the kiss, and Ward’s small jerk of surprise at that was oddly touching. Loosening his rigid grip on Ward’s nape, Nick tunnelled his fingers into the man’s silky hair and slid his free arm around Ward’s waist, steadying him as Nick shifted their bodies into a more comfortable position.
Tentatively, Nick stroked his tongue over the seam of Ward’s closed, almost chaste mouth, his own mouth curving slightly when Ward finally opened to him with a small, surprised gasp. Ward was plainly unused to kissing, and that thought made Nick strangely giddy. He coaxed Ward into a deeper kiss, with tender, suckling pulls at his lips that soon had Ward writhing against him and Nick’s cock growing achingly hard in his drawers.
Somewhere at the back of his mind, Nick knew they were getting too carried away. That this was dangerously reckless behaviour, out here in the open. With a huge effort, he broke the kiss, rolling them over again till Ward was under him, flat on his back in the scrubby grass. Ward seemed dazed, his light-brown eyes darker than usual as his pupils pushed back the band of tawny iris.
“Kiss me again,” he whispered, lips barely moving.
When Ward whispered, his voice sounded quite normal. There was an inflection of yearning in it now that could not be discerned when he spoke in his customary bark.