Anything, Curtis almost said. “What do you want?”
“Promise me that you will not contact me, back in London, for, say, a fortnight. Promise me that you will think, and not with your prick either, about what you want. Promise me that you will not allow anything you have said or done this week to bind you in any way. Promise me, in fact, that if you decide that you’re going to propose to Miss Merton—well, perhaps not her, but some delightful young lady—and pretend none of this ever happened, or even that on the whole you’d rather bugger a good honest English chap of your own class, you will simply go ahead and do it without a second’s thought for my opinion.”
“Daniel—”
Daniel rolled on his side, looking at Curtis with wide, dark eyes. “Promise me. And then, if you still want—anything, after you’ve had time to think about it, we’ll talk, and if you decide you’d rather not, we’ll part friends. Do you see?”
“What you mean is, I’m to do as I wish without giving a damn for you.”
“If you give a damn for me, you’ll do as I ask,” retorted Daniel. “I can bear a great deal but I can’t bear being an obligation.”
“Or caves.”
“Or, as you say, caves. I’m serious.”
Curtis thought about it. He could feel Daniel’s tension, a physical thing against him.
He had no idea what he wanted from Daniel, except that he should be there somehow. He only knew that his life outside the army had seemed purposeless, futureless, withered on the branch, and now, though he still had no idea what the future held, it was no longer empty. He had fought and made love this week, taken life and saved it, and it was all down to the man next to him.
Of course Daniel was right about the difference between their social circles. But he had spent the last year and a half drifting between clubs and sporting events and house parties, and it had been the driest, most pointless time of his life. Society was all very well; Curtis wanted companionship. More: he wanted Daniel, with his smooth skin and smoother tongue; wanted to get inside his fierce, brittle defences and protect the vulnerability within; wanted their growing bond so much that he flinched at the thought of its loss.
Curtis had no idea how this could possibly work, in London or anywhere else, but that was no reason to stop. Plans were for generals. He would approach this as he did everything, head on, forging forward step by step.
He looked down at Daniel, who was contemplating his chest hair like a man absorbed. “All right. I understand. You’ve scruples.” Fears too, but he would no more have pointed that out than poked a mamba with a stick. “I’ll make you that promise—a fortnight’s consideration, no obligations, all you ask—if you’ll tell me something in return now.”
“What?” Daniel sounded wary.
“Subject to your stipulations and so forth…” Curtis leaned in and kissed him gently. “May I call on you?”
“Fuckin’ell, Curtis!” That came out as the purest East End. Curtis couldn’t help grinning. Daniel narrowed his eyes and retrieved his poise along with his accent. “If you intend to start sending me posies with ‘Wear this for my sake’ cards, I shall assault you.”
That wasn’t an answer, except, in its defensive flare, it rather was. Curtis kissed him again, a little more demanding this time. “You’ve talked about what I want. I need to know what you want. May I call on you?”
“Yes, all right. If you must.”
Curtis took hold of a handful of black hair and gave it a tug. “Does that mean you want me to?”
Daniel glowered. “Go to the devil, you overbearing, oversized sod.”
Curtis lay back, satisfied, pulling him closer. He felt a whisper of a kiss against his chest.
“Get some sleep.” Daniel yawned indicatively. “It’s damned late. When will you go back in the morning?”
“I won’t.” Doubtless he should, it was what he’d intended, but Daniel had to be protected, and a fellow couldn’t be expected to do everything. “The cavalry will be here soon enough. I’m staying with you.”
Daniel’s lips curved. He rubbed his head against Curtis’s chest, catlike. “Now, quite seriously, my dear, get some rest.”
Curtis wasn’t reluctant; it had to be past three o’clock by his reckoning and he felt somewhat drained by the day. He wrapped his arm over Daniel’s shoulders, steadied his mind, and slept.
Chapter Fourteen
“Wake up. Wake up.”
Curtis blinked into consciousness. The light was the yellow-grey of autumn dawn, which meant it must be past seven o’clock. His back was a solid line of soreness from lying on the hard floor, his mouth tasted furry and dry, the clothes he’d slept in were sweaty-cold, and Daniel was shaking his shoulder urgently.
“Wake up, you lump.”
“What?”
“We’re besieged.”