The Christmas Wager (13 page)

―How do you want me to say it?‖

―Say you prefer men to women. Say you find men

attractive. Anything but ‗pervert‘. It sounds so sordid.‖

―It
is
sordid, Thomas.‖

―You don‘t intend to answer my question, then.‖

Andrew sighed. ―I suppose I‘ve always been like that. Even

as a young boy. I remember swimming naked with a friend in

the river. I was fascinated by his body. It wasn‘t so much

erotic—not at that age—but it was… beautiful.‖

Thomas contemplated this, then asked, ―But when did you

know
?‖

Andrew emptied his glass and poured himself another. ―I

suppose I really didn‘t understand how differently I felt from

the other boys until I went to University. While all of the others

were spending their free time trying to convince women to

surrender their virtue, I found myself hoping to get a glimpse of

my friends dressing after gymnasium.‖

As he knew would happen, the implications of this were

immediately apparent to his friend. Thomas‘s eyes went wide.

Slowly, he reached for the sherry decanter and poured himself

another glass.

―You‘ve seen me out of my clothing more times than I can

remember.‖

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―I know,‖ Andrew responded, feeling deeply ashamed. ―It‘s

awful of me. Please understand that it‘s been difficult to isolate

myself from these circumstances, without revealing my

nature—‖

―Were you… did you find me pleasing?‖

Andrew could not look at him.

―Thomas… I have always felt you to be incredibly

beautiful.‖

He expected Thomas to be shocked, but he merely gave

him a shy smile and said, ―I‘m glad you think so, Andrew.‖

Andrew looked up and met his soft green eyes. The

expression in them was far from horror or disgust. It seemed…

affectionate. Had Andrew allowed himself to believe it, he could

almost swear it was loving.

The love of a good friend
, Andrew told himself.
Nothing

more. He’s a good sort.

―I think you‘ve had a bit too much to drink, Thomas. You‘d

best get to bed.‖

Thomas appeared reluctant to leave, but tilted back his

sherry glass and emptied it. Then he dutifully placed it on the

table and stood to take his leave. ―I‘ll say good night, then.

Thank you, Andrew, for all you‘ve done—with the dance and…

everything else.‖

Andrew wasn‘t certain what he meant by ―everything else,‖

but he smiled.

―Goodnight, Thomas. Sleep well.‖

Andrew knew
he
would not. Thomas‘s unexpectedly

affectionate reaction to his confession that he found him

beautiful was disconcerting. Against his will, thoughts of

Thomas‘s naked body began to come to mind. Though he had

always fought against such thoughts, he began to wonder if

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Thomas would be willing to consider other arrangements that

might please both of them.

With a concerted effort, he forced the thought from his

mind. Thomas was a good-hearted creature, and still, in many

ways, an innocent. He knew nothing of the unnatural desires a

man of Andrew‘s sort might have for him. To corrupt him, even

in fantasy, seemed absolutely unforgivable.

THOMAS could no longer deny that he was intoxicated. But he

wasn‘t so far gone that he hadn‘t noticed the way Andrew was

looking at him as he said goodnight. Nor was he oblivious to

his own reaction to that look. Any proper English gentleman

would have been repulsed, but he was not.

Why am I always
pleased
to find evidence of his attraction

to me?
Thomas wondered. Indeed, now that he was being

honest with himself, he was forced to admit that he
wanted

Andrew to be attracted to him.

No, it’s more than that. I want him to
love
me.

The thought came upon him suddenly, and he was

startled by it. But he instantly knew it to be true. Watching

Andrew dancing with that young chit had nearly driven

Thomas mad with frustration. Every time he and Andrew had

linked arms, he‘d wished fervently that it were just the two of

them dancing—the girl and Rebecca be damned!

He longed to return to London, where they could once

again spend their nights alone with each other, distracted only

by the casual acquaintances they both had at the club.

It was foolish, Thomas reflected, as he made his way to the

bed, bracing himself on the backs of chairs and the bedpost to

keep himself steady. Worse than that, it was cruel. Thomas

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could never love Andrew the way Andrew wanted him to. Yet

some part of him wanted Andrew to remain faithful to him.

The idea was absurd.

He found that he was no longer shocked by Andrew‘s

inclinations. If the blond preferred to bed men, instead of

women, so be it. Let the Church hash out the morality of it—it

was not up to Thomas to be Andrew‘s judge. If his friend were

to find another man to do… well, whatever it was that two men

might do together… then that was Andrew‘s affair, and

certainly not worth losing a good friend over.

One of the servants had slipped a bed warmer between the

sheets—a long-handled pan with a lid, which contained hot

coals from the fire. Thomas removed it, being doubly cautious

not to upset it, in the uncoordinated state he was in, and

placed it on the hearthstone. Then he slipped in between the

sheets, sliding his bare feet down to the warmest spot.

If only the thought of Andrew with another man didn‘t

bother him so much. Oh, not out any sense of propriety, but

out of simple….

Jealousy.

That was the word. He couldn‘t deny it. He might not want

to be Andrew‘s lover, but he was forced to admit that he would

be terribly jealous of someone
else
filling that role. It was a

childish notion, like a little boy being upset that his older

brother was courting and no longer paying attention to him.

It was also selfish. If he couldn‘t make Andrew happy, then

he should wish for someone else to do so. If he truly loved him.

And Thomas did love Andrew, at least as much as any friend

could love another.

He sighed and rolled over, tucking the blankets tight

under his chin.

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It was pointless to think about all of this now. Andrew was

alone, as he‘d been ever since Thomas first met him. Someday

that might change, and that would be the time for Thomas to

cope with it. Not now. What needed to be done now was to

convince Andrew that their friendship was strong enough to

survive the truth Andrew had been hiding from him for all

these years.

As he lay there, thinking of his friend, his mind still a bit

fuzzy, Thomas thought how nice it would be to have Andrew

lying beside him, wrapped in his arms. A few days ago, the

thought would have been shocking. But now, in this drowsy

state, it seemed oddly comforting. He imagined pressing his

body up against Andrew‘s pleasant warmth, and was only

mildly surprised by the stiffening in his groin, as he drifted off

to sleep.

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Chapter 16

CHRISTMAS morning dawned gray and cloudy, but the thick

blanket of snow covering the countryside, and the softly falling

snowflakes, made the scene beautiful. Andrew looked out of his

window, cheered despite himself. It was wonderfully serene,

and for a moment it soothed his troubled mind.

But only for a moment. He hadn‘t locked his door, and

Thomas suddenly burst in, looking disheveled, still in his

nightshirt, with his hair going every which way. Andrew

thought he looked adorably like a rumpled urchin, as the man

rubbed his eyes with one hand to get the sleep out of them.

―My God, Andrew!‖ Thomas exclaimed. ―It‘s Christmas

morning!‖

Andrew couldn‘t help but smile. ―Yes, that‘s what generally

follows Christmas Eve.‖

―You don‘t understand. I‘ve no presents for anybody! How

could I have forgotten?‖

Andrew walked to the pull cord by the mantel and gave it a

tug.

―Sit down, Thomas. You seem desperately in need of some

tea.‖

Thomas did as he was told, and Andrew couldn‘t resist

going to stand behind him and rubbing his shoulders. This had

always helped calm him in the past, and Thomas didn‘t appear

to mind it now.

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―We must go into town,‖ Thomas insisted. ―One of the

shops must be open.‖

―Don‘t be daft. Nobody keeps a shop open on Christmas

Day. And have you looked outside? The road will be impassable.

I just hope all of the guests made it home safely last night.‖

―Yes, of course,‖ Thomas said quietly.

A servant knocked on the door and entered. ―You rang,

sir?‖

―Could you bring us some tea?‖ Andrew asked, and then,

as the servant began to back out of the room, ―and I‘d like

some hot water brought for a bath, please.‖

―Yes, sir.‖

When the servant had gone, Thomas said, ―There must be

something I can give Susan, at the very least. What kind of

Christmas will it be for her without presents?‖

―Until this year,‖ Andrew pointed out, ―she didn‘t know

anything at all about Christmas. She‘ll hardly miss something

she‘s never had before.‖

―That‘s not the point! Children get presents on Christmas

morning. Or Christmas Eve. But to get no presents at all is

simply unheard of!‖

Andrew gave up rubbing Thomas‘s shoulders—the man

was far too tense to really benefit from it, anyway. He went to

the fireplace and attempted to stir the coals with the poker,

hoping there was some life left in it. ―Surely a house this size

must have some toys stashed away somewhere.‖

Thomas‘s face brightened. ―Yes, of course. The attic. There

must be hundreds of old toys packed away up there.‖

He made as if to stand, but Andrew looked stern and

brandished the fireplace poker at him. ―Sit down. We‘ll have tea

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first. Then you can go scavenge about in the dusty attic to your

heart‘s content.‖

This got a smile out of Thomas as he fell back into the

chair. ―Really, Andrew. We might as well be married.‖

Andrew didn‘t find that amusing. He gave up on the dead

ashes in the fireplace and placed the poker back in its stand.

―We are not married, Thomas.‖

―I was merely joking,‖ Thomas said, looking wounded. ―You

needn‘t get upset about it.‖

Yes, it’s all very amusing, isn’t it? A wonderful lark—

playing at it, like an exotic new game?
Andrew supposed this

new fascination Thomas had for his perverse nature was

preferable to the man being horrified and unable to be near

him. But it was distasteful, nonetheless.

They were interrupted by the arrival of tea. The tiny little

waif who brought it had also brought some scones and

crumpets, with strawberry curd and clotted cream. Andrew

liked neither, but Thomas was inclined to sweet things, when

his stomach was up to it. She bowed and left.

Andrew was longing for that bath now, but settled for

pouring two cups of tea. It was too hot to drink, but holding the

cup and smelling the aromatic steam served to perk him up a

bit.

―I‘m surprised to see you up so early,‖ he commented. ―I

pray you‘re not becoming one of those horrid people who enjoys

mornings.‖

He‘d meant it as a joke, but Thomas looked put out. ―You

keep ordering me from your room at night. I‘ve had no choice

but to go to sleep early.‖

Andrew didn‘t have a response for that. Being around

Thomas right now was so difficult, and doubly so when they

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were alone together late at night, with nothing to distract them

from the tension they now felt around each other.

The bath water arrived, or at least the first couple buckets.

Andrew and Thomas sipped their tea in silence while the

servants bustled back and forth with it.

When the men had at last departed, and the porcelain tub