William (22 page)

Reflexively I grasped his elbow, a perfectly
mundane gesture that set my heart spinning. The man's blood, I
guessed, would taste of tea and ginger. I quickly hooked a heel in
the wooden notch to pull off one boot, then the other, and let go
of him to shed my trousers.

"We discussed an exceptionally slim fit,"
Beekman said, holding my new pants at ready. "I hope this will be
to your liking."

"I'm delighted to be in your hands." I shut
my mouth as soon as I'd said it, wondering where that husky tone
had come from. Cheeks aflame, I took the new pants from him
readily, pulled them on, and stepped out from behind the
screen.

Oh, thank Christ, a real distraction.
"Splendid," I breathed, gaping at the mirror. They cut was divine,
the fit transcendent. I turned this way and that, admiring the
lines.

"As narrow in the hip as could be," Beekman
said, and my inner composure went up in smoke when he crouched down
to skim his palms up the sides, pulling gently at the fabric to
test how it laid against my body. "Oh, yes. You carry this very
well, sir." He adjusted the waistband around my shirt, slipping two
fingers between the garments to check the fit. "Wonderful," he said
to himself, then looked up at me. "How do they feel?"

"Exquisite." I made the mistake of glancing
down at his intent expression, and then studiously fixed my eyes
back in the mirror. "You've a deft hand, Mr. Beekman."

The tailor flushed with pleasure and rose to
his feet, then helped me into my new waistcoat before offering the
jacket he'd made.

I sought Merrick in the mirror as I put my
arms into the garment. The man stood behind me at a distance,
watching with an expression I couldn't read. Was he worried I'd
lose composure? I straightened my spine and looked Beekman in the
face as he straightened my lapels, determined to pass muster. The
tailor was deep in his craft, focused entirely on the look of the
garments he'd constructed. His eyes were narrow with concentration,
his lips pursed, his brow furrowed, and he laid his hands on me
with the utmost professional confidence to inspect his work. It
dawned on me that there was possibly no trade more intimate, more
seductive, more alluring...

Beekman had asked me a question, and somehow,
even with my eyes trained on his face, I had failed to hear it.
"Sorry?"

"Too tight, sir?"

"No. No," I said, looking at the mirror again
as I stretched my shoulders and turned at the waist. The results of
his craftsmanship nearly brought a tear to my eye. The outfit hung
so fluidly about my body it was like a second, more fashionable
skin. "Bloody Hell, you do fine work. It fits like a glove."

"I dared to cut right up to your
measurements," Beekman said, stepping back and crossing his arms to
look me up and down with barely contained pride. "I must say this
is the cleanest first fitting I’ve seen in a good while."

"Indeed," I murmured, admiring the perfect
lines of my new ensemble. "Flawless, sir. Well done."

Mr. Beekman smiled broadly, glowing with his
accomplishment. By God, he was a treasure. "It’s your figure, sir,
that takes the credit. Move around, if you would, and tell me if
you feel any need for adjustment.” He looked toward Merrick. “If
you're ready, sir."

Merrick approached the dressing area, and on
the way he gave me a placid, inscrutable look in the mirror. I
swallowed. Was he impressed? I did want to impress him. I wanted to
impress myself, for that matter. I wanted to know I was capable of
standing atop my desires.

With the two of them out of sight for a
moment, I closed my eyes and let out a long, deliberate breath.
When I faced myself in the mirror again, I couldn't help but be
impressed by how calm and confident I appeared. There was a keen
look in my eye, perhaps, but one would never guess I was lusting
for this poor tailor's blood. I turned on my heel to stroll the
room, determined to keep my wits about me. Mr. Beekman had arranged
a tray of wine and glasses at one side of the room, and I served
myself a glass before sitting down in the same chair I'd taken the
week before, when I'd watched Merrick have his measurements
taken.

The wine soothed me as much as the distance
I'd put between Beekman and myself, and I relaxed considerably to
watch Merrick dress. To my utter lack of surprise, he was
resplendent in Beekman's creation. In fact, I was instantly afraid
that Merrick would never step outside in this new ensemble, for
despite the fact that we'd kept it confined to plain and somber
tones, he was so profoundly, breathtakingly perfect in it that he'd
be easily remembered wherever we went.

I drained a good few inches of the bottle of
wine as he and Beekman conversed, letting their words fade into the
background as much as I could. My teeth were practically begging to
pierce something, and I wasn't willing to test my stamina any more
than I had to. My thoughts swung like wild pendulums as it was,
full of elation over the suits, satisfaction in my own
self-control, intense feelings of desirous affection for Beekman,
and distress at the thought that I could not have him. By the time
they'd gotten around to settling the bill, insides were all in a
furor and I was more than ready to leave.

"It's been my distinct pleasure, gentlemen,"
Mr. Beekman said as he escorted us out with our parcels under our
arms, and the wistfulness in his voice was unmistakable. "Would
that you could stay with us a bit longer."

"Indeed," Merrick said. "You've spoiled us
with your work, I fear."

"You're very kind," Beekman said with a flush
of pleasure, looking between us as we stood at the threshold. "But
it gives me no end of joy to know I’ve been the one to dress you
for your travels. Please do stay in touch, gentlemen, and whenever
you should return to Boston..."

"It's a promise," I said, extending my hand.
He clasped it warmly, and I could have moaned in despair.

The door closed behind us. Merrick put a
friendly hand to my back as we walked back to the street. "How are
you?"

"Oh, Merrick," I groaned softly. "I pray we
can find someone quickly, now..."

"You've shown a great deal of
discipline."

"It's not my favorite part so far," I quipped
without much heart.

In truth, it was worse than I'd thought. With
every step we took from Beekman's, I felt a hollowness expanding
within me. I had expected the distance to dull the craving I'd felt
inside; on the contrary, the knowledge that I was leaving the
object of my desire behind me provoked a faint sort of panic
somewhere deep in my mind. In fact, I could scarcely call this
sensation a thirst, for it wasn't felt in the usual way, in my lips
and teeth and throat, but all through my mind, all over my skin,
deep in all the hidden parts of me. I exhaled, struggling to regain
my bearings.

"You know, William," Merrick murmured,
slowing to a halt.

I stopped and turned to him with an inquiring
look, trying to keep my discomfort hidden.

"I believe I may have left my handkerchief
behind." His glimmering amber eyes bored into mine, intent and
inscrutable, and he lowered his voice even further. "Would you like
to go back inside for me and see?"

"Christ," I groaned softly, glancing back in
the tailor's direction and turning to lean a hand on the stone wall
near where we stood. "You'd best do that yourself, I'm afraid."

"I'm asking," he said gently, stepping closer
and reaching up to brush his thumb along my jaw, "if you would like
to go back inside for me."

I searched his coppery eyes, confused. "I
don't think I could handle myself, Merrick."

"I'm well aware," he whispered, and hearing
the sounds of hooves around the bend, he stepped back to put a
proper distance between us again.

I blinked at him, speechless, while the
carriage passed.

"If you'd like." Merrick regarded me with
that look of quiet fondness, the calm expression that made me feel
so at peace. There was no riddle or test at work here. It was
perfectly clear that his suggestion was as simple as he had framed
it to be.

And I could not say no. Could not say
anything, in fact—could only nod, and turn around to take the
two-dozen steps back to Beekman’s gate.

Here we were again.

Beekman was pleased to welcome me inside
again. Noticeably, distinctly pleased. In fact, it was abundantly
clear to me how easy it would be to pull him close, to press my
lips to his neck. No venom would be necessary to seduce him. No, he
would yield of his own natural will, the lovely gentleman, the
delectable creature, and he'd shiver and sigh before I even bit
him. And when I did, he would moan with pleasure, and his blood
would be sweet and fine, and his soul's departure would be as
flawless as his seams.

When I emerged from Beekman’s shop again,
Merrick was waiting calmly on the corner where I'd left him. It
wasn’t until I drew close enough for him to see my face that his
eyes widened in surprise.

"He's too fine a tailor," I said wearily, and
braced my hands on my knees as though I'd just run a mile.

"William," he murmured, taken aback.

"God's sake," I groaned. "Let's find a few
sailors and get that coach on the road, can we, please?"

Merrick pulled me into a brief, tight embrace
of the brotherly kind we could afford in public. And then, having
clapped me on the back, he took me on the arm and led me swiftly
toward the waterfront.

Our coach set out from Boston at midnight, a
rather treacherous hour for highway travel, I thought, but I was a
New Yorker. Anyhow, Merrick wryly assured me that we need not take
pains to avoid robbers. The vehicle was outfitted comfortably
enough, well sprung and with plenty of cushions, and we'd brought
flasks of tea and wine for the journey. So I settled back in my
seat with a sigh of relief, feeling as though I'd exerted myself
quite enough for the evening.

"You know, William," Merrick said once we
were underway. "I wasn't expecting you to be so strict with
yourself."

"But it's true what you said, isn't it?" I
asked, lifting my head from the cushion to meet his eyes. "We'd
best be mindful of what we take."

Merrick leaned back, draping his arm over the
back of the bench as he regarded me. "You are mindful in all that
you do," he said kindly, and then added, "Provided you steer clear
of gardens when you're drunk."

I laughed and shook my head. "I really did
want to. Don't know how I escaped it, really. But face to face,
I..." I shrugged helplessly. "He's a fine tailor. I thought I might
try and leave him be. I don’t know if there’s any sense to it, is
there?"

"Of course there is." Merrick smiled gently,
and put his hand on my knee. "But my point, is that I don't expect
you to hold yourself to my ways forever. I hope you know that."

"That's very good to hear, Merrick. And I
hope you know, on the other hand, that I've no intention of
becoming frivolous or greedy in all this. I don't expect to be at
odds with you in this life, if that's ever been your fear, as I
dare suspect it has been."

His smile turned rueful for a moment. "You
know me better than you think you do." He looked down to where his
own hand idly stroked my knee. "But I have no such fear. All I want
is to see you happy in this life. I'm ready for my world to change,
William."

Those words caught me so off guard that I
couldn't help my mouth falling open in surprise. "Merrick," I said,
and for lack of a more intelligent response, I moved to close the
distance between us and pulled him close for a long and tender
kiss. It was everything I'd needed to hear and hadn't known how to
ask for. In those words I found, at last, the assurance I'd been
seeking that this would be all right, that I could be a part of him
as I was ready for him to be a part of me, that we could share this
future, even if it was not what he'd always wanted, even if neither
of us knew all that lay ahead, or even all that lay between us. I
had come to him, that first night in shackles, determined to make
the best of whatever he had in store for me. How joyous it was to
know, at last, that he was just as prepared to adapt to what I
might have in store for him.

"Merrick," I whispered again when we paused
for a breath. "I'm so happy. I'm so bloody happy to be with you,
for whatever this life will bring."

"My dear friend," Merrick murmured, and
gently smoothed my hair. "Thank God I had the patience to wait for
you to come around."

"So it was your plan all along, was it?"
Damned if I didn't detect the trace of a smirk on his lips. Ready
for change, indeed. I wrapped my arms about his shoulders to pull
him against me.

"I love you, William," he whispered against
my lips, his arms encircling my waist. "With all my soul."

"I love you, Merrick. More every day."

The road was rough in parts, and the carriage
may have jostled us violently. Or perhaps we jostled the carriage.
No matter. We made the trip safely, with no shortage of happiness
all along the way.

September 12, 1800

Dear Ben,

I was surprised to get your letter before I
realized how lonely you must be in New York without me. My
condolences to whoever must keep you amused now. Yes, the deed is
done. You needn’t worry. And he is happy—you needn’t worry about
that, either. You have succeeded at last, and deserve a rest after
all your efforts. As do I, even if mine were somewhat more brief
(you don’t really expect me to write you a long letter now, do
you?)

Anyway I heard a great deal about those
efforts. Tales of your victories, a few remarks on your skills of
persuasion. All very enlightening. I do think it’s a shame the way
things are lodged at the moment. But the Millennium is not yet upon
us, as they say. It could be a brand new world at any moment.