Page 35 of The Unlikely Pair

The only time he had broached the subject again was when I was about to embark for Cambridge University.

“No more of that boarding school nonsense. That’s something for boys. Now you’re a man, everything you do counts. Remember that.”

I have never allowed myself to forget. While I had the occasional discreet fumbled hookup at university, I always made sure it was with someone who was as deeply in the closet as I was. And I’d certainly never allowed myself to form any attachments.

Oliver Hartwell’s rise as an openly gay man in politics had surprised many, and I’d followed his progress even more intently than I normally would an opposition MP. Because he’d risen to the top regardless of his sexuality.

But he was a member of the left-wing Labour Party.

And even though the Conservative Party has shown some progression on LGBTQ+ rights, having the gay marriage bill and other pro-LGBTQ+ bills to its credit, I know my father imparted sound counsel.

If I want to be a Conservative prime minister of the United Kingdom, I can’t expect to get there without sacrifices.

I have never regretted following my father’s advice. Prunella and I have a good partnership based on mutual respect and understanding. She’s been the perfect political wife, and I like to think I’ve been a satisfactory husband in return.

While Prunella has encouraged me to look for a discreet partner outside our marriage, I’ve never felt it necessary.

Now, with Toby Webley pressed against me, I remind myself of my choice.

We need to get moving now that it’s light, but I still have a certain reluctance to disturb him because I’m sure Toby’s dreams are a more agreeable place than the reality he’s about to wake up to.

The first tendrils of the sun’s rays penetrate the gaps in the trees.

This might be your last sunrise ever.

I’m not normally a melancholic person, but equally, I’m pragmatic. Toby and I are alone in the wilderness with armed men hunting us. The probability of both of us seeing the sunset tonight is not particularly high.

Which of us are the terrorists targeting? By all likelihood, it’s me. I’m the leader of the Conservative Party, and I'm on track to become the next prime minister of the United Kingdom. It’s not being arrogant to say I’m politically more important than Toby to any hostile powers. Although Toby’s friendship with the future king and the Prince Consort might alter the parameters of the equation somewhat.

Assuming this is a kidnap attempt and not an assassination attempt, if they catch us, it’s likely they will eliminate whichever of us they don’t want. That fate could potentially be more merciful than the prospect of torture, interrogation, and being held for ransom.

Either way, it’s paramount that we don’t get caught.

I pull back from Toby, immediately feeling the absence of his warmth. For a second, my whole body twitches with a yearning to return to my previous position, to have Toby back in my arms.

“Toby,” I say instead, putting a hand on his shoulder to shake him. “Toby, you need to wake up.”

The corner of Toby’s mouth twitches up. It looks like, by default, Toby Webley starts the day with a smile.

I’m quite certain his smile will have a short lifespan today though.

Sure enough, when he opens his eyes, utter bewilderment takes over his face. He blinks at me and rubs his eyes as though trying to clear his vision.

I see the moment when the memories of yesterday wash over him. His expression changes, and he struggles to push himself up on one elbow, taking in the rapidly lightening clearing.

“Why didn’t you wake me? It’s after dawn.”

“I was enjoying a few extra seconds of peacefulness before I had to endure your company,” I say. “You’re far more tolerable when you’re unconscious.”

Toby yawns. “The same sentiment definitely applies right back at you.”

The survival blanket drops away to reveal his crumpled suit. My clothes are indubitably worse for wear having spent the night on the ground too.

I’m shivering with the cold now that I’m away from Toby’s body heat.

I try not to think about that, instead attempting to straighten myself out, removing as many pine needles and clumps of dirt from my trousers as possible. I find my tie I removed last night and fasten it back around my neck.

Toby watches me with an amused expression. “Are you trying to impress the trees and birds with your immaculate dress standards, Harry?”