Bone Idol (12 page)

“Leave it be, Dawlish. This will avail you nothing.”

“Avail me nothing?” Gideon sneered. “But you must guard your secret more closely than ever, now. And you will want me to guard it, too.”

“We have nothing to be ashamed of. My father would never believe you.” Albert was trembling under his hand, whether from fear or from anger, Henry did not know.

“Oh, I suspect he would. After all, the reverend”—and his tone said, ‘Old fool that he is’—“knows that you were the one who destroyed his specimen. A man who would do something like that is capable of anything.” He winked, the gesture lascivious and obscene with his flushed face and his gooseberry eyes.

“Oh, no,” said a clear voice, and the reverend stepped into their little group. He clapped Henry on the back with avuncular joviality. “Henry and I were talking late into the night, www.total-e-bound.com

discussing the reconstruction of iguanadon, when we heard the blast. I lost him, later, in all the confusion, but I can say with certainty that he is not the guilty party.”

His back was to Dawlish and he, too, winked—though this was more of a guilty flicker.

His expression was imploring. Albert knew that, although it seemed as though his father was giving Henry an alibi, in fact it was quite the opposite. His story put Henry away from the scene of the sabotage, but it also cleared the reverend himself of any involvement, and, although it was unlikely anyone would have accused him, his story meant that now nobody could.

Henry smiled. “And a most illuminating discussion it was, too. I see a happy and productive collaborative future before us, sir.”

Albert sagged with relief, and Henry took his hand from his arm because it was all he could do not to pull him into an embrace.

Gideon’s eyes flicked between Henry and the reverend. He looked angry. He looked
thwarted
. He knew that the story was a lie, but he could not prove it. “How pleasant,” he said, between clenched teeth.

“Yes,” Henry said calmly. “I believe there is work to be done to recover our losses.

Would you care to join me on a dig, Albert?”

And they left Gideon seething.

* * * *

Even in the limited time they’d had had to dig there, Henry and Albert had managed to extract the little therapod from its rocky grave. Nearby, among the partial remains of a similar but much larger creature, they had freed a femur, two feet long and almost perfect, from the stone. They had begun to expose the blunt, dark ends of what might be ribs. They did not yet know what this creature was, having found no sign of the skull, but it was exciting—perhaps something new.

Once Albert had carefully lifted the femur and the slab of rock containing the tiny skeleton onto a square of waxed canvas so that they could be wrapped to protect them from the elements and for easier transportation back to the campsite, they stood and discussed the best place to resume digging.

“We must be methodical,” Henry argued. “We should continue to dig away rock in the same direction, following as best we can the line of the creature’s body, hoping to expose its pelvis and spine. And we should dig in the other direction, too, to see if the tibia and fibula have been preserved.”

“But if we were to dig farther this way”—Albert paced a semicircle and turned to face Henry with his eyes shining—“we might find the skull!” He bounced on the balls of his feet, full of gleeful, boyish excitement.

Henry felt his heart skip a beat as he watched his lover, eager and happy, anxious to uncover the fossil’s secrets. “My impatient darling,” he said, and strode over to take Albert in his arms and lower his mouth, demanding a kiss from Albert’s soft lips, plundering the wet heat of his mouth with his tongue.

He cradled the side of Albert’s face in his palm, the soft skin at his temple beaded with sweat from the relentless heat of the desert sun. Albert smelt of clean sweat and starched cotton, though his shirt, too, had wilted in the heat, the fabric soft and slightly damp as Henry ran his hands down Albert’s back, feeling the subtle ridges of his spine, tightening his grip as Albert squirmed with pleasure and inhaled a deep, gusting breath.

Albert played his fingers delicately over the sensitive skin at the nape of Henry’s neck, causing the tiny hairs there to stand on end, causing in Henry a delightful frisson, an erotic shudder that shook him from head to toe, rolling down his spine like a bead of sweat.

“Oh, how touching.”

At the snide, sneering tone, Henry and Albert sprang apart. Henry could not help but notice that Albert’s face was flushed, his eyes bright and glassy as though he had a fever. His erection was quite noticeable, straining the front of his trousers.

Gideon Dawlish’s gaze dropped immediately to that evidence of Albert’s arousal and he narrowed his eyes. His expression was at once lecherous and contemptuous, and Henry felt a cold loathing for the man stir in the pit of his stomach. How he despised him.

“So,” Gideon said, “you persuaded that old fool that you were not responsible for sabotaging the dig site. How did you manage that?”

Henry remained silent. He gazed at Gideon with steady, implacable dislike. He had no intention of dignifying his question with a response—and certainly no intention of running any risk that Gideon might discover the truth. That would put the reverend entirely in the loathsome little man’s power, something that Henry would not wish on his worst enemy, www.total-e-bound.com

and particularly not on a man he liked and respected and who was, moreover, the father of his lover.

Gideon cocked his head to one side. “
Was
it you?” he drawled.

Henry raised his eyebrows.

“No, I don’t suppose you have any intention of answering that. You think you’ve won, don’t you? You think you’ve got the better of me.”

He whirled with surprising grace for a man who usually moved in a sort of lazy swagger and who was often drunk before midday, and stepped behind Albert. He seized his throat with one long-fingered hand, tobacco-stained on the first and second fingers, viciously clutching at Albert’s groin with the other. Albert gave a strangled yelp and rose up on his tiptoes, but Gideon just pulled back, tugging him off balance and against his body.

Henry took a step towards them, but stopped as Gideon’s hand tightened on Albert’s throat, his fingertips digging into the soft, white flesh. Albert gave a little whimper as Gideon massaged his groin, digging his fingers in there, too.

“Don’t come any closer.” Gideon’s gooseberry-coloured eyes bulged, their sclera yellowish and bloodshot. He gave a bitter snort. “So you’re the reverend’s golden boy now.

Well, the stupid old fool is half addled and as blind as a bat. He probably wouldn’t see what was going on if he walked in on you fucking.”

Henry bit down the impulse to defend the reverend. There was nothing to be gained from engaging in an argument with Dawlish.

“That’s right,” he said. “You have no hold over me. I have no need to protect Albert anymore, now that his father and I are reconciled. He would never believe your tales. Your dirty little blackmail schemes are over. You won’t see a penny of my money.”

But his heart sank as a slow, ugly smile spread itself across Gideon’s face.

“Ah, but your sweetheart, here”—he tightened his grip on Albert’s groin, making him yelp and moan again—“he will want to protect
you
. An up-and-coming man in the science world—you have a reputation to think of.”

“Albert has no money.” Sweat prickled at the back of Henry’s neck and he shifted from foot to foot, wondering what Dawlish was playing at now.

“But he has
such
a sweet arse. Well, of course,
you
know that. But do you want your father to know that? By all accounts
he
isn’t a woolly-headed old fool, nor likely to overlook unnatural behaviour. What would he say if he found out his son was a catamite? I suspect www.total-e-bound.com

that
you
wouldn’t see a penny of
his
money. And Albert here wouldn’t want that to happen.

I’m sure he’ll be very…persuasive.”

Henry’s heart felt suddenly lighter. He allowed himself to smile—to
really
smile.

“I’m not dependent on my father’s money, Dawlish. I’m perfectly comfortably off in my own right. I’m not ashamed of my love for Albert, and I don’t care a fig for my father’s fortune. You, on the other hand…
you
are dependent on your
wife’s
money, aren’t you?

Release Albert.”

Gideon wavered, his grip faltering, and Albert took advantage of the opportunity to stumble away from him, off balance. His feet tangled with the fossils laid out on the square of waxed canvas, and he sprawled in an ungainly heap on the floor, the breath whooshing out of his body with the impact.

Henry glanced at his lover and saw that he was essentially unhurt. He turned his attention back to Gideon Dawlish. “What would your wife think if we told her
you
had been the one to sabotage the dig, hmmm? The dig
she
is funding? Because if you try any more dirty little blackmail attempts, that
is
what we will tell her.” He took a step forward. “And she will believe us, Dawlish. I’ve seen the bruises. She knows as well as anyone that you are a ghastly, underhanded snake of a man. And the beatings will stop, too, Dawlish. You will not lay another finger on that woman—”

Gideon gaped at him, his jaw slack. Then he snapped his mouth closed and, moving so quickly that Henry hardly saw it, he had a gun in his trembling hand, trained on Henry, though the barrel quivered and jumped.

“Why—
why—
must you thwart me at every turn?”

His voice was cracked and hysterical, and Henry realised that the man was quite mad.

Whether it was the drink, some venereal disease or just an inherited weakness, Dawlish’s mind had snapped.

“You don’t want to do this, Dawlish.” His voice was utterly calm and steady, not betraying the sudden fear he felt. If he died, Albert would be left alone with the maniac, prey to whatever filthy desires he wished to enact upon him.

“I think I do, I think I
do
.” Gideon gave a brittle, high-pitched giggle that frightened Henry more than the gun. Spittle gathered at the corner of his mouth. “Why do things
never
go my way?”

He threw his hands up, but before Henry could react, could even think about wresting the pistol from him, he had trained the muzzle back at Henry, pointing it at his heart.

“Dawlish,” said Henry, watching his finger trembling on the trigger. “Gideon. This will do you no good. Put down your weapon. Let us forget this ever happened. Leave us in peace, and we will leave you in peace.” His eyes never left the gun, where Gideon’s finger was tightening almost imperceptibly on the trigger. He knew that if he looked up into his eyes he would see the crazed expression of a bitter, pitiless, thwarted man.

There was an almighty crack.

Gideon slumped to the floor, the gun tumbling from his hand, his head thumping hard against the red earth. Albert stood behind him, panting, the fossilised femur he had used for the wild, swinging blow to Gideon’s head still clutched in fingers gone white with the pressure of his grip. He dropped the bone, oblivious to the damage it might sustain, and stumbled into Henry’s welcoming arms.

* * * *

When the reverend wandered out to his dig site in search of his son and his new protégé, it was to find them kneeling solicitously by Gideon Dawlish, whose ginger eyelashes were flickering as he fought his way back to consciousness. Henry had tucked the pistol away out of sight.

“Oh dear,” he said amiably. “Too much sun?”

“It is so easy to succumb to the heat here,” said Henry steadily.

“Blew it up,” mumbled Gideon. “They are…they love…”

“Poor chap’s rambling,” the reverend said, but his eyes had already moved to the femur lying discarded on the floor after its brief function as a blunt instrument. “What’s this?” He moved with surprisingly sprightly steps to snatch up the bone, gripping the arm of his spectacles between thumb and forefinger the better to adjust the magnification and examining the bone with close, absorbed attention.

“But they are
tricking
you.” Dawlish’s voice was even more slurred than usual as Henry and Albert hoisted him between them, setting him on unsteady feet and supporting him as he wobbled.

The reverend’s attention was entirely focused on the bone. “This might be a new species entirely,” he breathed, his voice hushed with awe.

Henry leaned close to Gideon’s ear and murmured, “You will be quiet. Do you understand?”

Gideon met Henry’s gaze blearily, but Henry could see as clarity dawned. The man’s first instinct, always, would be to protect his own worthless skin. He nodded unsteadily and Henry dipped his head curtly in return. Gideon would hold his tongue. He stank of nervous sweat as they supported him between them and started to make their way back towards the campsite. Henry silently vowed to keep a very close eye on Maude Dawlish.

The reverend toddled behind them, in full, bubbling flow, clutching the femur. This was a new thing! A great discovery! It would make his name…their names! Henry and Albert smiled fondly at one another over Gideon’s bowed head as he stumbled between them.

They walked back towards the camp—back towards a hundred exciting discoveries—

back towards thousands of stolen moments—back towards a whole lifetime together.

Albert didn’t know if he would ever get used to London. It was loud and dirty, and he missed the sea. The filthy waters of the Thames, stinking in the summer and congealing into a dirty slush of ice in the winter, were no substitute. And he missed his father, even though they corresponded every day and he and Albert visited Dorset whenever his father wired them about whatever wonderful new discovery or theory was currently enthusing him.

But there were compensations. He was often at the British Museum, conversing with Sir Augustus Wollaston-Franks, with whom he had established a firm friendship. He and Henry had taken tea with Maude Dawlish several times. And he spent his nights in Henry’s arms, in the cosy bachelor flat they rented together.