Death by Dreaming - 4. Chapter 4

Angel wandered in nightmares of friends whose faces changed to masks which hounded him and drove him into darkness and fire. He tossed and turned moaning and muttering until he finally slipped into a deeper, dreamless sleep.

He woke suddenly, his eyes seeing only darkness. He felt cold, very cold and he tried to reach for the covers but he was frozen and couldn’t move. Fear gripped him and he tried to turn his head but he couldn’t. Everything felt unreal, the darkness pressed on him, oppressive and sinister.

There was movement from the side of the bed and he panicked. A voice began to speak softly. It was a familiar voice. He had heard it before, in a dream. Damn, damn, damn. Not another one. The dream gripped him harder the more he struggled to wake.

As before the voice spoke soothingly although he could not understand the words and his body responded by relaxing, the fear slipping away. Droning on the soft sound of the disembodied voice burrowed into his mind, repeating phrases over and over and over, phrases that he could not hear but sank deep into his subconscious, conjuring images of his home, a path through the garden to an outbuilding near the stables where feed and unused tack were kept. Over and over his mind took the walk and every time, at the end of it there was a wall of darkness.

Finally his eyes began to slide closed, too heavy to remain open any more and suddenly a light burst on him. Deep in his mind he was taking the walk again guided by the soft voice in his ear and this time the wall of darkness burst and there was a bright light, a flickering flashing light that blinded him and bit into his head. Pain lanced through him... a single white hot lance of fire that shot through him and was gone dragging him with it into the darkness.

***

The next morning he was still asleep when Charlie slipped into his room at almost eleven. The remains of the snacks from the night before had been removed, as had Angel’s dirty clothes. The curtains were thrown back and the room was flooded with light, the blue sky reflecting on the black marble topped tables.

Angel was lying on his side curled up tightly with one hand under his cheek and Charlie stood and looked at him for a while with a half smile on her face. He looked very peaceful and very vulnerable. She so wanted to throw her arms around him and kiss him. She sighed, knowing in her heart that this would never be, but daring to dream in any event.

“Hey Angel,” she said gently, stroking his hair, “are you intending on getting up today?”

He stirred and rolled over onto his back cracking his eyes open and groaning when the sunlight hit them.

“What time is it?”

“Almost lunchtime. You’ve been a terrible sleepy head. We’ve been up for ages but Marcus wouldn’t let me wake you.”

“Bully for Marcus. How much of that wine did I drink last night?”

Charlie laughed. “Not too much but you’d had a few before that. I told you not to mix your drinks.”

“Never bothered me before.”

“Ah but you are getting older now. Come on old man. Betty is going to serve us lunch in the family room. It will be ready by the time you are, if I know you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Alright... if you’ll go away and let me I will get up.”

“Can’t I wait right here?”

“No. I’m not wearing pyjamas.”

“So?” She tugged playfully at the duvet and he grabbed it, pulling it protectively up to his chest while giving her a look of mock shock.

“Charlotte Erica Lauren Coates-Young, shame on you. Give a man his dignity can’t you?”

“Dignity, shmignity.” She poked her tongue out at him and skipped off the bed laughing. “I’ll give you twenty minutes and if you are not decent by then you can bear the consequences.”

Angel smiled after her retreating back. When she had gone he stretched and threw back the covers. He was surprised that when he slid to the floor he almost fell. He hadn’t remembered being drunk enough to feel this unsteady. Ah well, by the pounding in his head and the dryness of his mouth his body remembered even if his mind didn’t.

He was halfway to the bathroom when he remembered the dream. A flash of pain in his head presaged the memory and he almost fell, grabbing on to the table to steady himself. Suddenly his heart was pounding, sending little stabs of pain into his battered brain.

“Shit.” He said out loud. This time he could remember the feeling more than the specifics of the dream. It was a feeling of helplessness, as if he was caught up in something he couldn’t escape. That voice... that awful voice. This time he couldn’t remember it saying anything in particular, no dire warnings only soft murmuring, almost chanting, painting pictures in his head that he could not remember.

Had it been the alcohol making him dream, revoking the fear of the previous one, the fear he had been feeling when he fell asleep? He couldn’t deny that it had been a hard night, that he had dreamed plenty both before and after but this dream was different, this dream made him afraid like he had never been afraid before. What was the matter with him? He ran his hand impatiently through his hair then shook his head, immediately wishing he hadn’t and stepped into the shower.

The warm water revived him somewhat and the fear began to fade, releasing him from its vice like grip. Closing his eyes he let the water wash away the tension.

A short while later he found himself studying his face in the mirror as he brushed his teeth. It was a nice face. Nothing remarkable but nice, well proportioned and boyish. He looked younger than he was, something which had bothered him when he was younger, desperate to grow up and be treated like a man. He was indifferent to it now. It was the eyes that fascinated him. Often when he looked into the eyes he thought he saw someone else looking out.

Today the eyes looked shadowed, haunted and he shivered, impatiently pushing the lingering fear away. The reflection in the mirror frowned at him and that made him smile. Dropping the toothbrush into the sink he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and smeared shaving gel on his cheeks. His hand was shaking and he sighed.

When had he become such a wimp that a mere dream could shake him up so much? It was only a dream after all, not real. And anyway, what had actually happened? Nothing. He had walked along a path and got blinded by a light. It wasn't exactly a terrifying image. No, but the feeling that went with it, the sense of unreality, the compulsion, the helplessness and inability to move... that was scary, that was terrifying.

Shivering he rubbed at his temple, where a pounding pressure was building. Foam caught in his hair and the glittering blue eyes seemed dull and deep. Drawn into the picture in the glass it seemed as if the eyes were widening, opening like tunnels to draw him in and he couldn’t stop himself falling.

He jerked and blinked, breaking the hypnotic spell that his own reflection was casting. Feeling strangely disoriented he finished shaving quickly and wandered out into the bedroom. For a moment he stood in front of the window and watched the sunlight playing on the fountain in the courtyard. Feeling warm and sleepy there was a great temptation to simply get back into bed and sleep away the lingering sense of disconnection and unreality.

Turning away from the window with a sigh he rubbed his temple again as the gnawing headache stabbed at the motion. His eyes felt gritty and almost unbearably heavy and he cast another longing glance at his bed as he sighed and went about the business of getting dressed.

He was half way through, buckling his belt, when there was a bang on the door which opened without invitation and Charlie bounced into the room with Marcus close behind.

“Bloody hell Angel. Haven’t you dressed yet? What have you been doing? You’ve been ages. Lunch is ready.”

“Isn’t it early for lunch?”

“Early? It’s half past twelve. You’ve slept away half the day. You did go back to sleep again didn’t you?” She giggled. “I knew you would.”

“I did not. I’ve been in the shower.”

“You have webbed feet then. Come on slowpoke.” She danced around him, making him feel dizzy.

“Alright, alright. Give me a minute. Marcus, can’t you keep her on a rein for a minute while I get dressed.”

He yawned and stretched, looking up at his friend with amusement in his eyes which died when he caught his expression. Marcus was staring at him with a sick looking expression on his face which made him feel suddenly exposed and hyper aware that he was shirtless and that it was embarrassing.

Carefully shifting Charlie out of the way he picked his tshirt up off the bed and slipped it over his head, pulling it down hurriedly. When he dared a quick, veiled glance Marcus was no longer looking at him but was studying a piece of art on the wall with a feigned nonchalance that was somehow deeply disturbing.

That look... it had been so... intrusive. He’d felt stripped, naked, as if Marcus was judging him and not liking what he saw. Angel shivered. Why was this happening? He had looked forward to this visit so much and now it was all going wrong. His headache increasing a notch or two he pulled on his shoes and headed for the door with Charlie hanging on his arm chatting excitedly.

“Oh, and you’ll never guess what. We went online this morning while we were waiting for you to get your lazy arse out of bed. Henry was on and he was telling us all that he had found out about that American guy... you know the one who has been dating Lucie. Horrid things Americans.” Marcus snorted and Charlie ignored him.

“Anyway... apparently he’s quite well known in the US as a bit of a heartbreaker. He works in his father’s shipping company and guess what...” She looked at Angel expectantly and he blinked, unable to keep track of the rapid chatter. Charlie rolled her eyes and sighed. “Well... his father’s company has been trying to negotiate a contract with MacAndrews and guess who’s on the board...”

Realising that he was being expected to supply a response Angel shrugged and Charlie sighed with exasperation. “God you’re a bundle of fun this morning. Remind me to ration the alcohol next time we go out. It’s Lucie’s dad, of course. Clayton’s on the warpath so the dude had better run for the hills. Harry reckons there’s going to be a major showdown at the ball because Lucie is still insisting on going with the jerk. I can’t wait to see him. I wonder if there’ll be a fight.”

Charlie prattled on about the ball and the possibility of impending violence, the prospect of which she seemed to relish as they descended the stairs towards the family room where lunch was to be served.

“If you ask me... you’re a little too excited at the prospect of that fight Lady Charlotte. I hope you are not planning to get us involved.”

“You are Clay’s friends.” She announced indignantly.

“Clay has a lot of friends. Let them take his back. Leave us out of it.”

“You’re only saying that because you’re American. Of course you are going to defend your fellow countryman even if he is a complete user.”

“No, I’m saying it because I don’t want to get drawn into a fight that isn’t even my own.”

“You are such a wimp. You wouldn’t abandon a friend in trouble would you Angel.”

Again he was caught off guard having just allowed the conversation to wash over him as he focused on the pounding behind his eyes.

“I... what...?”

“Oh GOD Angel. You are just no fun this morning. Try to keep up will you.” He smiled and shrugged and she hugged him.

The family room was a very pleasant space. Much smaller than the formal dining room it had a large table, enough to seat maybe fifteen or twenty people and a long sideboard against one wall. Another was taken up completely by floor to ceiling French doors which opened onto a sunny patio. It was such a nice day that the doors were thrown wide and the air was full of the scent of lavender as the room was between the kitchen and the games room, next to the herb garden.

Three places were set at the table and trays of sandwiches, fruit and cold meats lined the sideboard. Marcus and Charlie worked their way along heaping food onto their plates. Angel followed more slowly, the very sight of the food making him feel nauseous. Taking a sandwich he nibbled delicately and went to stand in front of the doors. There was a warm breeze blowing and he closed his eyes, raising his face to the sun and allowing the breeze to play with his hair.

Marcus, looking up from his place at the table shuddered and made a low noise in his throat. “Why don’t you come and sit down?”

“It’s nice here.”

“You’re blocking all the sunshine.”

Angel turned looking slightly confused and hurt by his curt tone but he shrugged and folded himself into one of the chairs yawning. His hair was still damp from the shower and curled around his face, making him look younger. Marcus shivered again.

“Is that all you’re having?”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You’re never hungry. No wonder you got so pissed last night. Have some fruit. It’s good for a hangover.”

With a sigh Angel got obediently to his feet and came back with an apple on which he chewed thoughtfully as the others ate. His eyes were drawn to the garden. Despite the heat he shivered.

“So have you thought how we are going to get there?”

“Get where?”

“Oh for heaven’s sake, what’s up with you two this morning? The ball, of course. It’s in two days, or have you forgotten.”

Angel shrugged. “Oh that. It’s up to you. I’ll get a limo if you like.”

“Ooh yes...I was hoping you would say that. Can we have a pink one? And we have to have a bar... and maybe...”

Marcus glanced up and saw Angel open his mouth to say something and then just stop. The apple was halfway to his mouth, forgotten, as his eyes went blank and his face lost all expression.

“Angel? Angel, are you okay?”

There was no response from Angel who continued to stare fixedly at the wall behind him. Alerted by Marcus’s tone Charlie glanced up and sighed.

“Leave him alone Marcus. You know how embarrassed he gets. Just ignore it. He’ll be alright in a minute.”

Marcus was about to say something but changed his mind and lowered his head with a frown. A few moments later Angel blinked and shook his head, staring at the apple with a dazed look on his face.

“What... what were you saying?”

“About the limo.”

“Oh yes... pink one. If you must.”

“Purrrllleeeeeze.”

He smiled, putting the apple down on the table. “Whatever you want princess. I’ll get Charlton to order it this afternoon.”

“Thank you Angel, you’re the bestest.”

“Yeah... thanks Angel.” Marcus’s voice was less appreciative and Angel glanced at him sharply. He raised an eyebrow. “What? You think I am going to be happy that we will be turning up at one of the biggest events in the social calendar in a pink limo?”

Angel frowned but before he could say anything Charlie piped in. “What’s wrong? Afraid it will start rumours that you are turning queer?” She was grinning but Marcus wasn’t, his face was like thunder.

“One of these days Charlie, that mouth of yours is going to get you into serious trouble.”

Charlie frowned. “What the matter with you? I was only joking.” She brightened again. “Everyone knows you’re a hot stud. Wasn’t it only last month you were spread all over the magazines with that Lady Francesca wassername? She certainly wasn’t complaining about your prowess.”

“Shut up Charlie.” There was a warning in his voice which she failed to catch. When he glanced up it wasn’t at her. Angel did not seem either particularly interested or shocked by the conversation. He was watching Charlie with a half smile on his face which suddenly made Marcus blazingly angry.

“What are you getting a bee in your bonnet about? I was only saying that after your escapades with the delectable Franny no one was about to challenge your sexuality no matter what colour car you turn up in. You could wear a pink suit and everyone would be saying how you made pink look like a manly colour.”

“I said... shut up.” With a threatening glower that had both Charlie and Angel staring at him in surprise, he got to his feet and strode towards the door. He would have left if hadn’t been for the fact that the door opened before he reached it and Henry sauntered in accompanied by his sister, Anabelle. They were dressed in riding clothes. Marcus stopped and glared at them.

“Well hello there.” Anabelle batted her eyelids in her best impression of seduction. On her it looked ridiculous and Marcus rolled his eyes.

“I’m glad we found you. If you have nothing planned for this afternoon we wanted to issue a little challenge.”

“What makes you think we’d want to do anything with you... apart from wring your scrawny necks that is? Seems to me you have a liking for that kind of thing.” Marcus growled and Henry couldn’t help the quick accusing glance he shot at Angel who did not respond in any way, merely taking a bite out of his apple.

“Now now boys play nice.” Anabelle drawled. “And didn’t we say it was a challenge? Are you afraid we might show you up?”

“Show us up?” Charlie snorted “As if.”

“What kind of challenge?” Marcus asked in the kind of voice that suggested he was hoping for rapiers.

“We have some new Arab stallions in the stables. Barely broken. They are a hard ride but worth it. We were thinking a race to Millbrook and back. If you can stay on long enough.”

“Oh we can stay on. You know that Marcus used to ride competitively.”

“Used to dahling.” She said giving Marcus a look that said clearly she wasn’t convinced he still had what it took. He glared at her.

“What do you say Angel? Shall we give these clowns the thrashing they deserve?” No one missed the deliberate choice of metaphor. Before Angel could speak Anabelle chimed in.

“Oh Angel can’t ride. Mummy said he’s not allowed.”

“Allowed? What do you mean ‘allowed’? Who the hell is she to say that I’m not allowed to ride?”

Henry grinned evilly at him. “After your little stunt the other day Mummy doesn’t think it’s safe for you to get on a horse. She would just hate it if you fell off and got broken. So Father’s given strict instructions to the grooms that they are not to let you anywhere near a horse.”

“Fuck that. If I want to ride, I’ll ride.”

“If Angel doesn’t go none of us goes.”

“Ah... you were right Henry. I must say I am disappointed.”

Henry grinned at his sister and they turned to leave.

“Wait a minute. Right about what?”

Anabelle turned and smiled sweetly. “He said that you wouldn’t be up for the challenge.”

“We are up for it... just not without Angel.”

“Ah, how sweet. Afraid to ride the big nasty scarey horsies without your boyfriend to hold your hand.”

Charlie flushed. “I am not scared. And Angel is not my boyfriend.”

Anabelle shrugged. “Whatever. It’s a shame you’re too chicken to take the challenge. I would have liked to have rubbed that smug smile off your face when I picked your arse up out of the dust. Ah well... another time... when you’re feeling braver.”

“I am not chicken. I could ride you into the ground any day.”

“Prove it.”

Charlie looked uncertainly at Angel who was scowling and Anabelle. “I...”

“What about you big man? Are you going to put your money where your mouth is? I’ll wager a thousand that I can beat you by at least five minutes.”

“I don’t need to prove anything to you.”

Henry smirked. “It’s a shame. I thought you were braver than that.”

“He is brave. We are all brave. We’ll take the challenge. We’ll thrash those smug smiles off your stupid faces.”

“Charlie!”

“What??!!! You’re not going to let them think we’re scared of them are you... or their stupid horses?”

Marcus and Angel exchanged glances and both sighed.

“Alright... okay you win. Give us half an hour to change and we’ll meet you in the stables.”

Henry and Anabelle exchanged delighted glances and bowed mockingly before skipping out of the room.

Angel and Marcus both turned to Charlie. She shrugged, her eyes wide and her face flushed. “Don’t look at me like that. I was Not going to let them think I’m scared... because I’m not.”

“They’re pretty good riders.” Angel said begrudgingly.

“Maybe... but we’re better.” Charlie grinned at Marcus who stared at her for a moment and then broke into a cheesy grin, shaking his head.

“One of these days Charlie you are going to get us into such a lot of trouble... but not today. We’ll thrash those idiots and have pleasure doing do. What about you Angel? You going to ride and to hell with it?”

Angel thought for a moment and then shook his head. “Better not. The staff have a hard enough time of it as it is. The head groom is a good man. He’s been here years and he taught me to ride. If he’s had orders off Mrs Bishop I don’t want to put him in a difficult position if he disobeys her... which he would.” He smiled, wondering not for the first time at the unquestioning loyalty of the staff, even against their new employers.

For a long time Angel had thought that the deference with which the staff treated him was all about their love and respect for his father, and this might well have been true... at the beginning. However, recently he was coming to realise that a good deal of it was because they had developed a great deal of love and respect for him. It had given him comfort in his darkest hours.

“Do you have riding gear?”

“Are you kidding? I was hoping we would get a chance to ride those legendary Arabs... not like this but hey... never let it be said that I was not up to any challenge that crowd can throw down.”

Angel smiled. “What about you Marc?”

“Yeah, I have my stuff.” Angel stared at him, puzzled. Once he had thought that he had known this handsome American maybe better than he had known himself. Both of them had been there for him through his hardest times. They had seen him fall apart and helped in no small part to put him back together again. The number of hours they had spent talking about their deepest dreams... and now...

Angel had no idea what he was thinking. He didn’t sound too thrilled with the venture and Angel had no idea why. Even last summer Marcus would have been chomping at the bit to take up any challenge anyone set and he was so fired up about the Bishops and Henry in particular. So why did he have that closed look on his face? Was he still angry about that silly joke? Why was he so angry about it?

Closing his eyes Angel massaged his temple. He wasn’t up to this bullshit now. Horrified he realised that tears were pricking his eyes again. He had so wanted this holiday to be a relaxing break, a change to release some of the tension that had been building lately... and all that seemed to be happening was that it was bringing even more tension into his life, even more confusion. It was too much... it was all just too much.

A gentle touch on his arm startled him. “Are you alright? You’ve gone very quiet.” He opened his eyes to find Charlie looking at him with such a gentle understanding on her face that it caused his eyes to burn again. Smiling he patted her arm.

“Yes, I’m fine. I’m just sick of all this bullshit. Sometimes... sometimes I feel...” He shook his head. “It’s alright. You go and get changed and I’ll meet you in the stables. I’ll make sure that there are no nasty little surprises waiting for you there.”

“Surprises? What do you mean?”

“With that lot you never know. It’s best to be prepared. Don’t worry I’ll make sure that by the time you get there everything will be smooth and easy. Don’t take too long though. I don’t relish the thought of another confrontation with those two on my own.”

“Then don’t go.” She looked so worried that he laughed.

“I said I don’t relish it... not that I’m afraid of it. You go get changed and I’ll be waiting.”

Angel watched the door close behind them, then got up and went out onto the patio and stared out over the garden. He felt ridiculously tired and was glad he wasn’t going riding after all. The thought of walking down to the stables was enough...

He remembered there was a shortcut to the stables through the kitchen garden, past the herbs. It came out by the old tack shed. Without even thinking about it he began to walk.

It really was a beautiful day and the scent of the herbs was intoxicating. As he passed e lavender bushes he crushed a few stalks between his fingers and inhaled deeply. He loved the smell of lavender. On a whim he broke off a few stalks and wove them into his hair so the scent would stay with him. His mother used to do that. He closed his eyes for a moment remembering her gentle touch as she braided his hair around the stalks. His father had laughed and said it made him look like a girl, a lavender fairy, but when he clambered up onto the broad lap he had buried his nose in the soft curls and sighed.

Lost in memories he wandered further along the path, inhaling lavender and listening to the birds sing in the trees all around.

Suddenly he was jolted back to reality by the shocking realisation that this was the path he had dreamed about last night. He stopped stock still, his heart pounding and his mouth dry.

Half turning to go back he stopped himself, angry with his fearfulness. He was not a coward dammit and it was only a dream.

But how had he known? How had he known he was going to be walking along this path today? He hadn’t been near it for years. He hadn’t even been thinking of going riding last night.

“Fuck.” What did it mean? Was it a sign? A warning? What was waiting for him at the end of the path? Maybe it had been a warning to him not to ride... well Mrs Bishop had taken care of that so there was no problem was there... was there?

Squaring his shoulders he tossed aside the apple core and began to walk again. There was only one way to find out.

His mind was racing and his heart beating fast. The headache which had been bothering him since he first opened his eyes that morning was throbbing and there was a growing pressure behind his left temple. Bugger. A migraine was starting. Oh well, once he had seen his friends safely off he could go and lie down for a while. They wouldn’t be back for a couple of hours.

The tension grew as he approached the end of the path. What would he find? A wall of darkness or...

Rounding a bend in the path he passed through an opening in a high yew hedge and the stable block came into view just below him. The path wound down past a few old stone outbuildings and then between two buildings into the stable yard. The sounds of the stables drifted up to him through the still air. The call of the grooms, the jingle of harnesses, the striking of hooves on the ground.

Looking around Angel saw nothing. Everything was still. In his agitated state it felt too still, as if everything was paused, waiting... watching. The shadows which had previously offered rest and shade now breathed menace and the sun beat relentlessly, intensifying the pain in his head. When a gust of breeze touched his cheek he jumped.

“Oh for God’s sake.”

Impatient with himself he strode on, slipping on loose dirt as the path steepened to plunge sharply downwards.

As he approached the old tack house something began to bother him. For some reason he felt drawn to it. Something was urging him to approach, to open the door. Impatiently he thrust the feeling away and walked past. As he did do he heard a sound. Just a small sound but clear in the stillness. He stopped, straining his ears to listen but he heard nothing.

As he was about to move on, to cover the less than 60 yards to the gap between the buildings, that strange feeling gripped him again and, almost without realising it he turned towards the door.

Reaching for the handle he felt as though the whole world was holding its breath. Shaking his head, annoyed with himself for being so spooked, he grabbed the handle, turned and pulled.

It was almost disappointing when nothing happened. At least the door could have creaked. But although the shed was no longer used as a tack room it was still used for storage and any building on the estate that was used at all was cared for.

The inside of the shed was dim and smelled of old leather and polish. Saddles straddled custom made stands and harnesses hung from hooks in the beams, swinging slightly in the sudden breeze from the door, creaking and giving the place an eerie feel as though they were silently watching, swaying and turning towards him.

Blinking to accustom his eyes to the darkness something caught his attention, something blinking and twinkling in the far corner. He took a step forward and the light burst into life, piercing his eyes and brain with rapid pulses, blinding him, filling his world.

***

When Angel was not at the stables when they arrived Charlie and Marcus were surprised but not concerned. The checked out the horses and tack and were suitably impressed by the beautiful, spirited animals. They were still dismounted and getting to know the steeds when Anabelle and Henry stomped into the yard. The horses whinnied and stamped, shifting nervously causing Marcus and Charlie to exchange glances.

“Where’s the spare? I thought he would have tagged along.”

Charlie frowned. “Angel is not a spare.” She looked around. “He was supposed to have been here. I don’t know what’s keeping him.”

“Off snivelling in a corner I expect... because he’s not allowed to play.”

“Shut up Henry,” said Marcus dangerously.

“Oh get over it Marcus. Come on, let’s get going. I can’t wait to look back and see you eating my dust.”

“I’m not going anywhere until Angel gets here.”

“Awww... need a good luck kiss from your boyfriend do you? How sweet.”

“Charlie was just too late to catch his arm and she stared in horror at Henry sitting on the floor dabbing at his bleeding nose. Anabelle screamed.

“Ahhh... did you trip over your own ego Henry? Here... let me help you up.”

Furiously Henry batter away the proffered hand and climbed to his feet holding his nose.

“Fucking lunatic! Look what you’ve done. You’ve broken my nose. You fucking crazy Yank.”

Marcus smiled, a lazy but dangerous smile.

“Don’t worry, it’s an improvement. It gives your face some character.”

“Fuck you. I’m going to get the police on you... that was an assault, that was. I’m going to... I’ll...”

Marcus took a step forward and Henry cringed. “You’ll what? Pin me against the wall by the throat? That’s your favourite isn’t it? Go ahead. Give it your best shot. I don’t bruise easy.”

Henry stared at him then turned away.

“What’s the matter Henry? Don’t you want to play? Don’t you like it when someone plays your own game as well as you do? Are you too chicken shit to stand your ground when someone fights back?” He took a step forward and Henry, his eyes wide, took a step back, Anabelle clinging to his arm.

“Listen to me and listen good.” His American accent, which was usually barely noticeable came out strongly when he was angry and, for Henry, it added menace to his words. “Angel is a sweet, gentle soul. You’ve been fucking with him because he wouldn’t dream of fighting back, hitting out at you. He is a fucking angel but me... take a good look because I sure as hell ain’t no angel; I’m your worse nightmare. If you ever... ever, lay a finger on any of my friends again I’ll break more than your fucking nose.”

Henry made a strangled sound and then turned and strode away with Anabelle scurrying after him. When he was at a safe distance he turned and called.

“Give your boyfriend a kiss from me you fucking fag.” Then he turned and fled leaving Marcus simmering.

Charlie whooped and hugged him, taking him completely by surprise.

“Marc, you were awesome.” She cried, using his own favourite word. He grinned sheepishly.

“I thought you were gonna be mad because I hit him.”

“He deserved it. He was an utter arse.” She sobered. “But Angel isn’t going to be happy. He didn’t want to stir up the situation and more than it already is.”

Marcus looked around sighing. “Where the fuck is Angel?”

“Do you think he’s okay?”

“I don’t know. We shouldn’t have left him alone.”

Charlie frowned. “I’ll go back to the house and see if he’s there.”

Marcus called over one of the grooms. “Is there another way back to the house from here?”

“Yes sir. There’s a path up to the kitchen.” He nodded towards a space between two buildings. “That way.”

“Thank you.”

“Shall I unsaddle the horses, Sir?”

Marcus looked at him for a moment, distracted, then nodded smiling. “Yes please. You may as well. I don’t think Henry feels up to the race any more.”

The groom grinned and smiled shyly. “I know it’s not my place, Sir, but that was an impressive right hook.” There was so much more than an indictment on his form in that comment. Marcus smiled and briefly gripped the groom’s shoulder in a friendly squeeze.

“Right Charlie. You go back up to the house by the main route and I’ll take the path. We’ll meet in the family room and if he haven’t found him we’ll regroup and plan.”

“Okay. Marcus... you don’t think...”

Marcus smiled. “One of your problems is that you think too much.