Nothing short of a steaming bath would melt the chill from Horatio’s skin.

Hands stinging from the water’s heat, Archie knelt behind him on the polished floor, lathering up his narrow chest – icy after hours without the protection of a proper coat. He grimaced to remember how Horatio had rushed through dinner, eager to be upstairs, both for the fact that he was sick to death of shivering and for fear someone might recognize them even in this small, distant inn.

The latched door kept them safe from suspecting eyes now, yet Horatio’s body remained tense under Archie’s hands. He had scarcely uttered a word while Archie helped him out of his soaked clothes, his lips pursed and his forehead creased above his brooding eyes. Archie sighed; he had always granted Horatio space to mull the ills of the world and all his perceived failures, but enough was enough. This morning could have gone worse – Pellew could have stooped to blackmail to prevent Horatio from resigning.

“Horatio . . .” Archie’s hands glided with deliberate slowness over his friend’s wet chest, tickling Horatio’s ribs to get his attention. Horatio jumped, and then glanced back at him with half-hearted annoyance. That reproving look only amplified Archie’s impatience. “Do you intend to stay sour-faced all night? Or shall I continue?” His fingers danced again, and this time Horatio thrashed sharply enough to disturb the water.

“Archie, please,” Horatio entreated when he stopped, not ungently, yet distracted still.

Relenting, Archie brought his hands to Horatio’s shoulders, soaping and stroking. Perhaps he should not tease him; Horatio had turned his own world upside down this morning and was therefore badly hurt after all. Archie’s hands settled more tenderly with the thought, more protectively, and he spoke patiently this time.

“Horatio, I did warn you. Pellew did what he could.”

He should have said that in Kingston Pellew had done more for him than he had ever expected, but that would not go over well; Too modest to see that the Admiral bordered on lovesick, Horatio still believed Pellew a fair man concerned for all his men. In truth, Pellew had done little more than not stop Bracegirdle from aiding him, and for that Archie bore his former captain no real gratitude. Had Pellew been made of stronger stuff – had he kept Hammond in hand, had he not shamed Buckland – there would have been no need for false confessions in the first place. But Archie would never say as much to Horatio unless it came to outright argument.

Horatio’s expression hardened all the same, but the anger was not for him. “Can I be blamed for expecting honor from a gentleman, Archie?”

Archie scowled at the uncharacteristic bitterness. “I suppose not,” he conceded, but did not quite agree. Pellew had not exactly committed dishonor. Horatio would never see it that way, of course – for him honor and dishonor lay in public praise and condemnation respectively. Pellew had kept the crucial secret of his survival; for Archie, that was honor enough.

A brief silence held, and feeling no need to break it, Archie idly caressed Horatio’s shoulders with his fingertips, rubbing warmth into his skin where the water would not reach. After a moment, Horatio leaned back into his touch and sighed.

“Captain Bracegirdle claims you had no interest in a commission. Did you tell him that, Archie?”

He nodded. “As I have told you a thousand times.”

The answer should have sufficed, but Horatio turned to peer at him as though it were a riddle. “But did you mean it, Archie?” He kept his voice low; they could not afford a chance listener overhearing that “Mr. Carlyle” had once had something to do with the Navy.

Archie hardly bothered to give the question any consideration. “I’ve been fed up with the Navy since I was sixteen, Horatio.” He thought that plainly obvious by now.

Horatio’s features sank with fresh, baffling disappointment. Archie grimaced; one would think his dispassion for a naval career would lessen Horatio’s guilt over the loss of it. “Then had matters turned out differently you would not have been my first officer?”

Ah, so that was it. That had been their plan, true - Archie had told Horatio many times he did not have it in him to be a leader – but after the verdict in Kingston, anyone with the sense God had given a toad would know to put that dream aside. But Horatio’s sad eyes made Archie frown all the same; Horatio had championed his honor for the sake of restoring his good name, not to secure a crutch to lean on while at sea. Knowing that, Archie had little doubt which path he would have chosen had Horatio managed to secure that pardon.

“I would have been your steward had you wanted, Horatio, but what’s the use in debating it now? Don’t tell me you’re sorry.” That would kill him; remorse was not a burden he could bear with any grace; unlike Horatio, who wore guilt as others wore fine clothes.

Horatio gave him a flat look and then reached up to touch his hand. “Archie, it isn’t like that. I was only wondering.”

Archie suspected that deep in Horatio’s heart, he would always regret this morning, but nothing could be done for that now and Archie was willing to drop the subject if Horatio was. “Then it doesn’t matter.” He leaned in and kissed Horatio’s cheek. “We’re free of it now, Horatio – Simpson, Renown, everything.”

“Free?” Horatio’s eyes narrowed. “I should think disgrace would be a comparable violation.”

Archie went still at that. Horatio had no idea what he was talking about. “I can tell you firsthand that it is not.” How Horatio could think the shame of losing something so abstract as reputation could compare to paralyzing pain and terror was beyond him. But Horatio did not understand shame – you could never really understand something until it had been branded into your flesh. Archie wet his lips. “To be honest, Horatio, nothing I’ve endured holds a candle to the pain of the bullet. Just let me be glad for my life, that’s all I ask.” And let Horatio be glad for it, too, but Archie did not say that.

Horatio’s expression turned repentantly tender, as it always did whenever Archie spoke of his wound, but he was not ready to relinquish his argument. “That’s precisely it, Archie, your life is in danger at every turn. You once said the Articles were your enemy. They haunt you now more than ever. Should you be discovered . . .”

He did not finish, and Archie was glad of it. In truth, the danger seemed distant, as though he could not really believe the Admiralty would do anything but look the other way should they discover him – hanging him would only trumpet their incompetence in allowing him to slip away in the first place. But Archie was not naïve, and knew that this false security came only from the night’s seclusion. That seclusion was real, however, and Archie intended to take full advantage of it.

“What?” He slipped his arms around Horatio’s waist, resting his chin on one damp shoulder. “No gallant promises of keeping me safe, Mr. Hornblower?”

Horatio blinked at the unexpected embrace, but turned and cupped Archie’s cheek. Tingles spread through Archie’s body when their mouths met in the briefest brush of lips. “Warm, perhaps, if not safe,” Horatio said softly after pulling away.

“And satisfied?” Archie bent to nuzzle Horatio’s neck, one hand slipping down in the water, reaching between Horatio’s legs and prompting with a gentle squeeze.

Horatio’s eyes slid closed with a sharp breath. “If I must,” he said when Archie let go, his lips betraying him with the tiniest smile.

“You must.” Archie smiled back.

“In that case . . .” Horatio slipped both arms around him, urging him up and into the tub. Archie straddled his hips with a groan, meeting warm water and warmer skin. His arms wound around Horatio’s neck as he was drawn toward his mouth, kissing him wet and slow and thorough. The languorous contact aroused him, not to mention the prospect of a proper night alone. The carriage ride had been cold and the privacy of Retribution’s sleeping cabin scant.

By the time Archie pulled back and caught his breath, Horatio had already fetched the soap. He anchored him astride his hips with one hand, scrubbing Archie clean with the other. Archie smiled at the gentle attention, arching up when Horatio brushed his nipples and then his scars. The damned things still itched uncomfortably at times. Thankfully, Horatio did not linger there, but pulled him even closer so that Archie could tuck his head between Horatio’s neck and shoulder while that steady hand washed his back. Archie grinned to be handled so. When had Horatio become so commanding? He used to be so skittish.

But Horatio fell to brooding again as he worked. Archie straightened to find Horatio’s eyes as grave as they had been during the ride here. He looked so wounded. With a sigh, Archie climbed out of the tub, quickly drying himself before holding out a towel to Horatio.

“Come on,” he said. It was high time Horatio put Pellew from his mind tonight and let more tender things chase his ill mood away.

Horatio submitted with a wry smile, whatever mastery he had displayed a few moments ago gone. He was only a shy creature seeking comfort now, looking to Archie with his large, pleading eyes. Early on in their return voyage, Horatio had been able to carry him the few steps to their bed; if Archie could have done the same now, he would have. But he had to settle for drawing Horatio into a loose embrace, pulling him down on top of him when they reached the mattress. Lying that way had finally become comfortable – Archie had missed the warm weight of Horatio’s body cradled between his thighs and that smooth chest pressed to his. His arms wrapped around Horatio’s slim body, hands caressing in gentle circles over his damp back, moving up to stroke his thick dark curls. Horatio raised his head to meet his eyes; tired but aroused. Archie threaded a hand through his hair and brought their lips together.

Few things tasted sweeter than Horatio’s full, silky mouth. His ripe lips parted instantly, allowing Archie to sink into the warm wet heaven inside. Horatio’s tongue slid out to meet his and Archie sucked it gently until Horatio hardened against his thigh, his body seeming to grow hotter in Archie’s arms. Only dizziness made Archie pull away, finding Horatio’s cheeks flushed and his eyes shining, just as mildly stunned by the chaos in his body as he had been the first time years ago, and just as hesitant to make a move before it was invited. Sometimes, Archie wished Horatio would not wait, but would gather up and sweep him away in a fit of passion. But Horatio never would, of course.

“Come on.” Archie kissed the shoulder nearest his lips. “You’ll feel better.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Horatio laughed and then leaned close, kissing a light trail along Archie’s jaw and down his throat. Archie tilted his head back, his blood heating with each searing press of lips, but he clenched a fist in Horatio’s hair to stop him before he could move any lower.

“No, no,” Archie said. Horatio looked up instantly, his expression tensing for fear he had done something wrong. Brushing a few stray curls from Horatio’s forehead, Archie only smiled at him. “You forget I’m feeling better now.” That was the best way to put it; telling Horatio that it was time to stop his guilty fussing and accept what he needed for a change would never do.

“Archie . . .” Horatio nuzzled at his neck, ready to insist that he wanted to do this. But he finally nodded after Archie shook his head. “I’ll get –“ He reached for the salve Archie had left on the bedside table, but Archie stayed his hand.

“No.” He trapped Horatio in both arms, squeezing fiercely and nibbling his lover’s soft earlobe. Feeling mischievous, he stopped long enough to say, “I want to do it with my mouth.”

Horatio twitched eagerly against his thigh at the words, and grinning at that small triumph, Archie rolled him onto his back, sinking into his embrace, flush atop Horatio’s body. His mouth descended on Horatio’s throat, sucking gently, biting here and there, while his hands roamed over firm muscle and smooth skin. He could not resist rubbing his hips into Horatio’s, grinding their hard flesh together until Horatio arched up from the bed with a groan, his arms tightening.

Archie disentangled himself easily enough, sliding his mouth along Horatio’s collarbone and lower, latching onto a nipple and tugging gently with his teeth. Horatio shivered under him, clawing into Archie’s back, his heels sliding up the mattress.

“Archie . . .” he rasped. But Archie only laughed into his skin, his mouth dipping lower, nuzzling in the furrow where leg met body, taking in Horatio’s clean, male scent. His free hand stroked the inside of Horatio’s thigh, admiring its pale smoothness. Then his fingers moved up, the pad of one thumb rubbing the smoother underside of Horatio’s pounding cock where it lay against his belly. Horatio expelled a sharp breath, his eyes going wide and then sliding closed at the torturous pressure.

But Horatio’s body strained for more than the elusive ecstasy of a teasing touch. He spread his thighs, one hand curling into the blanket beneath him, head thrown back and mouth set. Archie smiled, tracing the curves of Horatio’s tender balls with his tongue; Horatio’s long thighs quivered, and then his whole body shook when Archie’s fingers curled around the head of his cock, squeezing powerfully while he drew one of Horatio’s balls between his lips. Tossing his head, Horatio cried out sharply, the sound marking his pleasure as surely as the throbbing flesh beneath Archie’s fingertips.

Archie did not stop there, of course; his tongue danced up the underside of Horatio’s cock, swirling around the wet head as he brought it to his mouth. He nibbled there, flicking his tongue out and rubbing the silky flesh against his lips, his fingers playing down the shaft all the while, stroking and teasing, drawing sharp gasps. And when Archie’s mouth finally swallowed the length of him, Horatio moaned as he never could have aboard ship, clenching a strong hand in his hair. Archie’s body raged with a similar urgency; he relaxed his throat and began working Horatio in earnest, driven by Horatio’s implacable grip.

But then Horatio gripped both hands in his hair and was pushing him away.

Ordinarily, Archie would have ignored such a plea – he did not mind tasting him – but this time he complied and raised his head. Horatio’s cheeks flared crimson and he met Archie’s eyes with a sloppy smile, giving no indication that anything was wrong. He must have read the confusion in Archie’s face, for he reached out, tumbling Archie onto his back.

“What –?” Archie began, staring dazedly into glittering dark eyes where Horatio leaned over him on all fours now.

A hard kiss silenced him, crushing his lips and grinding his head into the pillow. The heat of Horatio’s body seared him like a brand but it was nothing compared to the torrid pressure of Horatio’s mouth. Archie wrapped a hand around his lover’s neck, helpless under the rare, passionate onslaught, never wanting it to stop. But eventually, Horatio broke the contact to catch his breath.

“Do you know what I want, Archie?” He asked when he could speak again, his eyes playfully dangerous. Crouched like that, he looked strangely predatory, his gaze trained and hungry, one hand roaming absently over Archie chest, coaxing his already rapid heartbeat to a hammering. Archie’s gaze followed that hand, staring down at his own sprawled, supine body, afire with anticipation.

“I’ve some idea,” he grinned.

Horatio snatched up the jar of salve and set it on the bed beside him. “You said I never ask. I’m asking now.”

Yes, he had said that, but even asking seemed silly. “There’s no need,” Archie told him. Even months ago, he never would have conceded such a thing aloud, but it was true. Months of fatigue had shown him how much he liked being at the mercy of Horatio’s whims.

Closing his eyes, Horatio kissed him tenderly on the mouth, in no real hurry despite the hardness in his lap. Archie hardly minded, winding his fingers into Horatio’s hair and letting him have his mouth until they both grew dizzy. When Horatio drew back this time, a measure of gravity returned to his eyes.

“It’s difficult to imagine that when last we were ashore we were still under Sawyer’s command. It all seems like a lifetime ago.”

God, had it been so long? “It’s even worse to imagine how matters would have ended had we not done anything.” That was one fact Horatio refused to see; as harrowing as the past nine months had been, that path of thorns had been the only way out of that mess alive.

Anger tightened Horatio’s features to think back on the tyranny aboard Renown, but the shadow quickly passed. “Indeed,” he nodded, and then brushed Archie’s cheek with soft fingers. “At times I shudder to think on the man I would be had I not known you.”

Archie frowned. Horatio had been slow to see the truth then, yes, but not because he was any confederate to injustice. He was simply too patient to condemn a man so quickly. His virtues did work against him at times. But Archie had long since grown weary of the matter. He pushed Horatio’s chin up with two fingers and met his eyes.

“Horatio, are you going to take me or not?”

Horatio blinked, as if he had forgotten they were lying naked together upon a soft bed in a secluded room. “Patience, Mr. Kennedy.” He kissed Archie’s forehead. “I plan to do just that.”

Archie made to say something more, but fell silent when Horatio’s mouth slid along the curve of his shoulder, the warm pleasure melting words away. His arms loosened, letting Horatio inch down his body. Horatio’s thumbs skimmed down his sides, brushing his nipples, his ribs, and then finally his thighs, easing them apart. A cunning smile touched Horatio’s lips then, and that was the last Archie saw before his eyes fluttered shut in anticipation. He was not denied; soft lips dotted hot kisses across his stomach, mouthing a tender path toward those ugly scars, his warm tongue tracing those marks with delicate care.

The ticklish sensation was more than Archie could withstand; he squirmed helplessly, and then finally seized a handful of dark curls, shoving Horatio away. “Stop that!” He laughed.

Chuckling, Horatio applied his mouth just above the knee instead, licking a burning trail down the very inside of one thigh. Archie shivered, biting his lip, hips twisting to bring his aching cock closer to Horatio’s mouth. This time, Horatio did deny him, ignoring the urgent hardness between his legs; his tongue creeping lower, licking where Archie least expected it.

Archie jerked at the wet shock of Horatio’s tongue teasing there. The sensation was awkward and strangely shaming; his face burned and his cock grew uncomfortably hard. He wriggled for Horatio to stop; he was not a woman for him to make love to with his tongue, but his own painful hardness betrayed him; Horatio gripped one thigh for leverage, fingers coaxing, stroking as his tongue gently circled the little entrance. Archie’s body tingled and tingled, every nerve ignited, and if he had been a woman he would have been dripping wet. His insides tightened, pricked with sharp stabs of urgency each time Horatio’s breath fanned over his balls. He groaned low and then cried out when the very tip of Horatio’s tongue poked the barest bit inside him. His body surrendered, relaxing instantly at the tiny, wet penetration. Never had he wanted to be fucked so badly.

“Horatio,” Archie called out hoarsely, refusing to open his eyes; watching Horatio lick him so intimately would be too much to bear.

Pulling away, Horatio reached for the jar of salve, breath hissing as he spread the cream over himself. Archie grinned, and then gasped too when cool fingers entered him. It did not require much salve; he was ready, and quickly found himself clutching greedily at Horatio’s shoulders as his lover’s burning length pushed into his body. A hot wave of pleasure washed over him, pleasure that had become so addictive of late. Archie dug his nails into Horatio’s skin, urging him on. He stared wide-eyed and mesmerized while Horatio rocked into him, transfixed on the play of muscle over Horatio’s smooth back and the way his buttocks rose and clenched with each fluid thrust. God, he was beautiful.

Horatio groaned softly against his ear all the while, his dark head buried in Archie’s neck. Archie lay still for him, holding him tight, letting Horatio burn away his ills in a frenzy of thrusting. After this morning, Horatio needed it. Once, Archie would have felt like a whore to be used in this way, but pride was beneath what they had and it felt good besides – so good that he soon shuddered and climaxed and brought Horatio off right along with him.

For a moment no sound but their ragged gasping filled the air, but Horatio eventually rolled off him, staring at him in bleary-eyed rapture. He looked wonderfully sated, exhausted, his bare body sprawled as though he never meant to rise again. Archie smiled at him, rolling onto his side and falling into Horatio’s lazy embrace.

“Tired, Archie?” Horatio asked after another moment, smoothing Archie’s hair and peering at him with concerned eyes.

“A little.” Archie settled against his shoulder, tilting his head up.

“I worry sometimes,” Horatio murmured against his lips. Archie snorted at that; Horatio should have seen him when he first woke to find himself alive. He had been little more than a breathing corpse then. “But to be honest, Archie, I’ve never seen you look so at ease,” Horatio went on. “It’s almost enough to make me forgive him.”

Pellew? Yes it would come back to that. Horatio’s melancholy was an indomitable thing. “Perhaps Pellew and I shared an understanding we did not know we had.” Or a rivalry, though Archie did not dare say that aloud. Yet it might be giving the man too much credit to believe that Pellew had refused to help reinstate him out of respect for his weariness of the Navy. Archie did not hesitate to say the thing that had been gnawing at him all day, however. “You could always go back.” He was surprised his voice did not shake. “Staying with me puts you in as much danger as I’m in.”

Horatio’s eyes hardened. “Archie, were I to leave you now my conscience would be as hollow as my own prayers. Neither my life nor my career is so dear to me as that.”

Archie stroked his chest to calm him, and after a moment Horatio’s eyes softened. Horatio kissed him then, a fleeting yet comforting brush of lips, tightening his arms.

“To be honest, Archie, I’m as relieved as you. I only wish I hadn’t failed to secure you a pardon.”

Must everything be a failure? Archie bit his lip, yet tried to sound hopeful. “So I’ll darken my hair and grow a beard, and we’ll go away.” What would happen after that was still vastly uncertain, but Horatio attempted a solution in any case.

“I was thinking I should like to study law or mathematics. Perhaps there’s something in linear navigation yet to be discovered.”

“Perhaps there is,” Archie nodded. Horatio would excel at either of those things. “For my part, I fancy being a playwright.” Horatio smiled at that, but Archie shook his head; best not to count his eggs before they were hatched. “First, I’d be thankful to have all my strength back.”

“So would I.” A rare, wicked glint entered Horatio’s eyes. He brushed teasing fingers across the back of Archie’s neck.

Archie frowned a little, sorry that over the past weeks he had not had the energy to be as thorough with Horatio as he liked, but Horatio had not seemed to mind, and so Archie settled comfortably in his arms, knowing that he could make up for it later.

*

Archie did not remember falling asleep, but when next he opened his eyes he found himself lying under the covers in the dark. Horatio lay facing away from him in his nightshirt, fast asleep. Archie supposed Horatio had tidied them both and dutifully tucked him into bed. Sometimes, Archie resented being such a heavy sleeper.

He was hardly sleepy now, and if not for disturbing Horatio he would have lit a candle and checked his watch for the time. There was a window beside the bed – an officer should know how to read the night sky – but determining the hour hardly seemed worth the trouble of leaving the warm blankets. Instead, Archie inched closer to Horatio and slipped his arms around his waist, resting his head against Horatio’s shoulder.

Horatio gave a start, instantly rolling onto his back.

“Archie,” he gasped, reaching out to grip his arm. The panic faded when he seemed to realize where he was, and he let go. “I dreamed you were . . .”

“Shh.” Climbing gently onto Horatio’s narrow hips, Archie leaned down to stop his mouth. Horatio had suffered many such dreams on the voyage home. Sometimes he would even wander out of the sleeping cabin to be sure that Archie was still where he had left him, reading quietly while keeping unofficial watch over the ship. Horatio always wanted him after he woke from those dreams.

But this was no place for a few brisk moments of fumbling; they had their privacy now, and no duties to interfere. Archie sought Horatio’s mouth again, this time kissing him with indolent care. The moist velvet of Horatio’s lips aroused him as surely as the warm arms wrapping tight around his back, pulling him down against Horatio’s chest so that they were one tangled form beneath the blankets.

Archie steadied himself with his arms on either side of Horatio’s head, his hands sinking into fistfuls of curls as the grinding of their mouths deepened. They seemed to melt into each other, his own hard cock crushed between their bellies while Horatio’s thrust up between his thighs. Archie could not help but writhe against it, drawing muffled moans and fitful caresses as Horatio’s hands slipped lower, kneading his backside, filling his groin with fire.

“Archie,” Horatio rasped when they broke contact to breathe, “take me.”

He would be a fool to refuse. But Archie did not want to do this in the dark; he was tired of sneaking round in the dark. Crawling off Horatio, he lit the candle beside the bed, retrieving the salve jar while he was at it, and then crawled back. He smiled down at Horatio and pushed his nightshirt up to his chest, sneaking his hands under it and dragging his palms over that pale, supple skin and those peaked, rosy nipples.

Horatio squeezed his eyes shut, spreading his thighs and waiting. Archie closed his eyes, too, remembering the last time they done this. How could he forget those frenzied moments aboard Renown, mere hours before the bullet had hit him? God, anything that had happened before his supposed death seemed part of another life. Sometimes he felt more reborn than revived.

Shaking off the memory, Archie prepared both himself and Horatio. He bit his lip as he inched into the furnace of Horatio’s body, sensation raging through his veins at the near forgotten bliss of having Horatio tight around him. For a moment, Archie kept still for fear of bursting on the spot. He sucked in a breath to calm himself, allowing the first tide of sensation to subside, and then ground their hips together in a steady rhythm. Horatio shifted under him, rolling his head back on the pillow, reaching out and pulling Archie down into his arms.

It was torture – the snug heat around him, the way Horatio writhed – but Archie managed to move slowly, slowly enough to earn impatient, tortured groans from the man beneath him. Horatio’s nails dug hard into the back of his shoulders, his features stained with a feverish blush in the candlelight, his full lips open, hair in disarray as he twisted under him, arching up for more. Those endless dark eyes were on him, too, wide and wild, almost ravenous, one sweaty hand wrapping around the back of Archie’s neck and demanding his mouth.

Archie obliged, his pleasure building with the way Horatio’s lips yielded as easily as his body. Once again, they seemed to melt together, two beings made to fit, sealed by a sheen of sweat and the wetness Horatio’s cock leaked unto his stomach as Archie dragged his body over him. He plunged his tongue into Horatio’s mouth, tasting for as long as he could bear, and then threw his head back, gripping the pillow beneath Horatio’s head in two fists as he thrust sharply, coming off in hard shudders and broken groans.

He found his belly scorched with Horatio’s seed when he returned to awareness, sprawled dizzily upon Horatio’s chest. His lover panted under him, arms limp at his sides. Archie raised his head to look at him; Horatio’s eyes were closed, lying there like a flush-faced doll, dark-haired and perfect, fucked well and truly senseless. Smiling, Archie turned onto his back, stretching out beside his exhausted lover on the soft bed.

Neither of them dozed; in fact, Horatio sat up after a few moments, rubbing his eyes and climbing out of the blankets. He went over to the window, frowning as he peeked out at the dark spring sky.

“It’s almost dawn,” he turned to say. “We may as well be off as soon as we can, Archie.” And with that he stepped over to the washbasin. Archie snorted; Horatio was still very much the captain giving orders. But authority begged to be challenged

“I demand a strong cup of coffee first, Mr. Hornblower.” He would rather have demanded to remain in bed awhile longer, but as usual Horatio had the right idea; it was dangerous for an undead mutineer to linger so near to Portsmouth for long.

Horatio fixed him with a strange look – he was not the one who usually craved the stuff incessantly – but nodded. “Far be it for me to stop you if it’s coffee you want. I’d like to remain awake as well. I’ve much to consider.”

The words did not come with the same brooding gravity of the previous night. The wounded look was gone from Horatio’s eyes. That gave Archie hope at least, hope that Horatio might think hard enough on the freedom before him, might come to embrace it in the end and forget the Service altogether. They had both tasted it here, in a small way, not having to skulk in the darkness to love one another. With the oppression of the Navy behind them, God willing the rest of their lives would be as liberating.