“Never loaded,” he dismisses cavalierly. “Besides, I can move quickly if I have to.”
He steps up to the wall under my window and pulls at the ivy in a meditative fashion.
“Oh my God, you’re not thinking what I’m thinking, are you?”
“Hope so,” he mutters. He grabs a handful of the ivy and sets a foot against the wall. “Especially if you’re thinking that I’m going to have you naked and under me, in the time it takes for me to climb this wall.” He gets a foothold in the ivy and starts to climb the wall.
“Oh God, I can’t watch,” I mutter and gasp as his foot slips slightly. “Please be careful,” I call, as he grabs for a firmer handhold. “Don’t damage anything that we’ll need in the next hour.”
He pauses in his ascent. “Milo, I haven’t seen you for a week. It’ll be over and done with within twenty seconds. I don’t want you to get your hopes up.”
“Too late.” I snort.
A few minutes later, his messy white-blond head appears at the tall window, and I heave him up until he tumbles to the floor. “Phew,” he says happily. “That could have ended much less romantically.”
“You think,” I say caustically and then spoil the effect by throwing myself onto him. “I’m so pleased to see you,” I say, kissing him quickly and then returning for a longer one. When I pull back, my head feels cloudy, and he follows my mouth drunkenly until I push his face away.
“Ouch!” he says sulkily.
I grin at him. “Happy birthday.”
He smiles, looking a little embarrassed. “Are you sure you don’t mind me coming here?”
I kiss him again and hug him tightly. “Of course I bloody don’t. I’m so fucking happy to see you.” I pull back. “But you’ll still have to clear off before five. It’s only polite.”
He looks at his watch and leers at me. “Well, that gives us five hours. Whatever shall we do?”
I grin at him. “Presents and cake,” I exclaim, jumping to my feet and grabbing the bags and boxes.
“That wasn’t quite what I was leaning towards,” he starts to say, but then he spots the brightly wrapped gifts. “Ooh, presents,” he says, sounding like he’s five.
“And cake.” I cross to the sideboard and retrieve a couple of teaspoons. “I haven’t got a knife, so we won’t bother cutting it. We’ll just eat it from the box with the spoons.” I sit down in front of him. “Okay, close your eyes. We’ll just have to pretend that the candles are lit because there are no matches anywhere because Lord Ingram hates them.”
“Why?”
I shake my head. “Just be glad you don’t live here. He hates all sorts of odd things. Matches, Radio Two, Michael Ball.”
“Okay, that’s not out of the park.”
I nudge him. “Close your eyes.” He obeys, and I take the lid off the cake box and pull out the cake. It’s a lemon cake with a cream and lemon-curd filling, and it’s his absolute favourite. Left to his own devices, he could eat the whole thing on his own. “Okay, now you can look.”
He opens his eyes, the blue looking very intense in the low firelight. “Ooh,” he says. “I’m blinded by the light from all those candles burning.”
“Shut up,” I say. His face softens as he looks down at the cake. I break out into a very rusty chorus of “Happy Birthday.” When I’ve finished, I grin. “Okay, blow out the pretend candles and make a real wish.”
Smiling widely, he obliges and closes his eyes in fierce concentration.
“What did you wish for?” I ask.
He smiles tenderly. “Well, Milo,” he says, pushing a strand of my wavy hair behind my ear. “I wished that I would always feel this intense love for you.”
“Now you’ve broken it.”
He leans forward and kisses me. “Doesn’t matter. I know I always will. I just couldn’t think of anything I want apart from what I have right here. You.”
I put the cake down and throw myself into his arms. “It’s not my birthday, but I’ll wish it too. Wishes are funny things. They have a way of coming true,” I say earnestly.
He hugs me tightly. Then he pulls my head gently up and takes my lips, softly at first and then harder as passion flares between us which is all the more intense for us having been apart for a week.