Chapter Fourteen

A plane flew low overhead as Joe was driven out of London towards Windsor. He could’ve gone to Japan with Wendy, but that life was over now. A new life beckoned, but who it would be with, if it would be with anyone, Joe didn’t know.

The car’s boot and its back seat were filled with suitcases and it probably looked as if Joe were emigrating, but drag, he discovered, took up lots of space. Fortunately, Alejandro had already packed his drag bag. Joe would’ve had no idea where to start with all the padding and whatnot. But he made sure to bring the mermaid shoes, as well as some of his own belongings. And there on the passenger seat, held safe by the seatbelt, was Alejandro’s wighead, the red, white and blue mane spilling onto the leather around it.

While in Alejandro’s bedroom, Joe had gathered up the blanket that they’d sat under the evening before. A nice, comforting sort of blanket, to take the sting from Alejandro being unable to go home. Underneath the blanket, Joe had found a stuffed toy. He’d assumed it was a bear but when he’d picked it up, he’d realised it was a well-cuddled, long-eyelashed stuffed toy bull. Joe had decided to pack that too, even though it hadn’t been on the list.

Joe was no stranger to Windsor, and was glad to see the huge stone edifice appear as they drove into the town. But he wondered how Alejandro would feel, being so close to Eton again. Hopefully he’d ignore the urge to escape.

Alejandro’s phone buzzed in Joe’s pocket almost constantly, messages and phone calls coming in with every moment that passed. He had silenced it after less than five minutes but the notifications continued. Alejandro, it seemed, was a popular man.

Here at Windsor though there would be no threats, no constant need to watch and listen, to be ready to swing into action. Here he would be able to calm Alejandro, to calm himself, and to have at least a few days to regroup.

Joe was sent up to Alejandro’s apartment, the luggage following on behind. As he passed through the corridors and along the landings, Joe was relieved to see officers present, both plain-clothes and uniform. Alejandro would be safe here from anyone who wished him harm.

“Mr Fuente?” he called at the door. From within he could hear Alejandro’s adored Beyoncé singing, probably a little too loud for his own voice to be heard, but other than that there was no reply.

Joe tried again, knocking against the enormous, highly polished wooden door. “Mr Fuente?”

Still not getting an answer, Joe decided to try the door. He turned the huge, polished brass doorknob and managed to open the door.

“Alejo?” Joe followed the music into the apartment.

“Whoever you are, go away! I’ve told you, I want Sergeant—” The angry words died on Alejandro’s lips as he appeared in an open doorway on the far side of the room. At the sight of Joe he gave a squeal of delight then flew towards him, enveloping him in a crushing hug.

Joe held him tight. “Thank God you’re safe. I thought something awful had happened to you!”

“What happened at your house? How’s your boss?” The questions tumbled out, one on top of the other. “Is everyone safe?”

“Yes, everyone’s safe. Some idiot broke into the house, and all they did was smash a photo. It’s nothing to worry about.” At least, so Joe would tell Alejandro. For now. “And my boss is busy. A bit rumpled, but he’s busy. You’re okay? You’ll be safe here, you know that.” Joe glanced at the decor, with its gold leaf and elaborate mouldings and carvings, and the room’s bright, lavish upholstery. “It’s very you, at least.”

“I love these rooms, it’s where one of your kings put his mistresses.” Alejandro looked at Joe, his eyes filling with tears. Then he snuggled against him again. “Somebody tried to bomb me!”

Joe wove his fingers through Alejandro’s hair and held him, rocking him gently from side to side. “I know, I know. Someone tried to hurt you but they failed, and now you’re here. You’re safe. That’s the important thing. You’re a survivor, Alejo.”

“I didn’t know if you’d come back,” he admitted, his voice muffled in their embrace. “I thought— Everything seemed to go crazy!”

Tears rose in Joe’s eyes. “I thought I’d lost you. Then I thought I’d lost you all over again. I thought I’d be reassigned.” Joe pressed his lips to the edge of Alejandro’s cheek. Not particularly platonic, he knew, so after a small kiss, he turned his face away.

A knock sounded at the door but Alejandro didn’t answer, cuddled as he was against Joe’s chest. A few seconds later there was another knock and Joe pictured some poor member of staff out in the hallway, cases and blankets and wigheads piled around him as he waited for an answer.

With a smile in his voice, Joe said, “Alejo, let me go and answer that.”

“Go on then,” he replied reluctantly, unwrapping his arms from around Joe. “I’ll call Mamá and tell her that all is now very well, with her Pepe here to keep me safe.”

Joe passed him his phone. “It was hopping about on the kitchen table like it was trying to dance! Your public need you, Alejandro.”

Joe went to answer the door and it seemed as though a very well-ordered circus rolled into town when he did. An army of attendants descended on the apartments carrying the luggage Joe had last seen in his service car, Alejandro’s wighead with its Union flag tresses at the front of the procession. Joe’s bags were there too and somehow, by some process of elimination, the castle attendants seemed to know which bags belonged to which half of the party. Or perhaps it was the fact that Alejandro’s luggage was in various neon shades and animal prints, with sparkles and gemstones liberally applied all over everything.

“I’ll put your luggage in your room, Sergeant,” one of the legion told Joe, leading him through the apartment and into a bedroom. “And let us know if you need anything further.”

Joe had stayed in palaces before, but he’d never had a bedroom quite as plush as the one he now found himself in. It was like a museum, with its antique pieces—its huge gold bed, oil paintings and elegant cabinets. The curtains and cushions were covered in silk, and Joe was convinced he could only sleep in the room if he laid down plastic sheeting everywhere. But he’d have to make himself at home, so he dug out his bear and sat it on his bed. It was only tiny and looked smaller still then, lost in the vast acres of the mattress.

Joe decided better of it and took the bear for a ride in his pocket.

He poked his head around the door and called, “Mr Fuente, do you need a hand unpacking?” He hoped he’d brought everything. For a few seconds there was silence, broken only by the sound of the attendants leaving and closing the door behind them. Then the face of Alejandro’s tiny bull emerged through a doorway further along the landing.

“Hola!” Alejandro’s voice said, the bull merrily bobbing as though speaking. “Bienvenido a Windsor, Osito!”

Joe laughed. He hurried along the landing, then held out his bear. “Grrrrr!”

“Hola, handsome bear!” Alejandro—or his bull—announced, then he appeared in the doorway, still holding the little bull up so he could touch its nose to the bear’s fuzzy face. “You do speak Spanish! All this time and you knew! Hello, little Osito, I hope big Osito gives you lots of snuggles!”

“Knew what?” Joe jigged his bear about as the two stuffed toys introduced themselves. “Osito? I thought that meant…well, I wouldn’t like to say or I’d sound big-headed. Hunky man in tweed or something?”

“Oh bless you! You are a hunky man in tweed but—” Alejandro stroked his fingertip over the bear’s tiny ear. “It means teddy bear, Osito!”

Joe burst out laughing so loudly that he bent double. “Teddy bear? All this time, you’ve been calling me teddy bear! Bloody hell!”

Alejandro laughed too, so long and loud that Joe knew the tension was draining from them both. After a day of fear and drama, without a moment to rest, they needed to laugh at bears and misunderstandings and the sheer silliness of it all. Eventually Alejandro managed to curb his hilarity just long enough to ask, “Does this little bear have a name?”

“Sir Robert. My dad named him. That’s what happens when your dad’s a copper.” Joe leaned back against the silk-covered wall. “Does your bull have a name?”

“Perfect! A little bear should have a grand name like that.” Alejandro touched the bull’s nose to the bear’s cheek and make a comically loud smooching sound. “This little toro is as old as I am. His name is Paloma.”

“Paloma! That’s a great name for a bull! Did you call him that?”

“When I was tiny. And my uncle said, ‘Bulls are boys, Alejo.’” He grinned. “And I told him that so was this bull, and his name was Paloma!”

Joe slipped his arm around Alejandro’s shoulder. “A good name. A good, strong name.”

“Come and see my amazing room, Joe and Sir Robert. Imagine a room for a mistress furnished by a drag queen in the 19th century and you’re halfway to how gorgeous it is!” He pecked a platonic—nothing more—kiss to Joe’s cheek and stepped through the door into his bedroom.

Apart from the room being so large that it could easily accommodate a raucous party, as it no doubt had in its past, it was filled with a bed that was even bigger than the one in Joe’s room, with velvets and silks everywhere Joe looked. The subjects of the paintings were more undressed than the horse-riding gents on the walls of Joe’s room, the decor more sensual. This was the room for a monarch to while away the hours despoiling with his mistress. A tucked away little world within a world for enjoying and loving unseen.

“What a room.” Joe gazed around at the long, swagged curtains and the bright colours, the weak light from outside somehow making the gold leaf shine. “If walls could talk, they’d probably just do a saucy giggle!”

“Paloma and Sir Robert look very pleased with this room,” Alejandro decided. “Don’t you think?”

“They do!” Joe said as he dropped down onto one of several sofas. “What a bloody day it’s been. But we’re still in one piece, in a castle. So it hasn’t been all bad.”

Alejandro settled beside him, curling his legs beneath himself. He said nothing, just sat there with Paloma in his lap, looking more serene than Joe had ever seen him.

“I need to apologise,” Joe said. “I had something sent to your address. Not the you-know-what, or the shoes. I should’ve warned you it was coming, but I hadn’t expected to be out when it came.”

“I’m desperate to know what it is,” he admitted. “I was so tempted to peek.”

Joe grinned. “I could always model it for you?”

“If it’s leather and studs, maybe we should save it for when we’re past platonic.” Alejandro’s face was deadpan. For a moment. “Fashion show with Beyoncé playing! Come on, Sergeant Osito, model for me!”

“It’s definitely not leather and studs. I’ve got my tux too but perhaps I should keep that for the party?” Joe got up from the sofa and left Sir Robert in his place. “Will you look after my bear? He’s been getting lonely.”

“Tux for the party, lovely fashion surprise for now. Paloma will keep Sir Robert snuggled and happy.” Alejandro scooped Sir Robert into his lap. Then he smiled, his expression gentle. “Thank you for bringing my blanket and little P. It feels more like home with them. And with you.”

“Least I could do,” Joe said. “Give me five minutes. And promise not to laugh if it looks awful?”

Alejandro gave a gracious nod. “Work it, girl. I’m ready to see you slay!”

Back in his room, Joe tore off the packaging that cocooned his new suit, his hands shaking. The dark blue tonic fabric he had chosen was subtly iridescent, a shimmer of purple running through the fabric when it caught the light. It seemed more appropriate by far for his plush surroundings than the jeans he’d been wearing all day.

The cut was flattering too. No tailor on Earth could have hidden Joe’s shoulders but careful tailoring had at least given the impression of a neat waist. He hadn’t wanted to look as wide as his shoulders all the way down. He wasn’t a bouncer, after all.

Joe added a crisp, white shirt, worn open-necked, and a pair of smart black lace-ups that had been in the back of the wardrobe for too long.

Joe combed his hair, trying to ensure that each strand was in place, and added a small squirt of cologne. Then he went back to Alejandro’s room where Beyonce was already singing.

“Mr Fuente?”

Alejandro was still on the sofa safely snuggled under his blanket. The two cuddly toys in his lap each wore a length of gold braid around their neck, tied off in a flamboyant bow. It was the same gold braid that Alejandro had been putting through his sewing machine all week, ready for his seamen. At the sight of Joe his mouth fell open, his eyes wide with wonder.

“Oh my God, look at you!” He clapped his hands together, his gaze roaming over the suit and, Joe knew, the man who was wearing it. “Dressed for the gods, the house down!”

Joe came farther into the room at a strut, in time to the music. He spun round and smiled at Alejandro over his shoulder, then when he turned back, held out one side of the jacket to show the dark red satin that lined the suit.

“You can stroke it if you like, Alejo! The lining, I mean.”

Alejandro put the toys down on the sofa and arranged the blanket around them, then rose to his feet. He moved to stand in front of Joe and drew his fingertips very lightly over the lining of the suit. Then he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, as though inhaling a gorgeous fragrance.

“You’re the finest, most handsome, bravest man I’ve ever met, Osito.” His eyelids sprang open. “And now you’re the best-dressed too!”

“So you like it, then?” Joe couldn’t resist his cheeky tone. “I don’t look like an undertaker anymore?”

“You must know you look amazing. This is what I was trying to say before, why would you be generic when you could be fabulous?” Alejandro stroked his fingertip down Joe’s lapel. “How does it feel?”

“Pretty amazing, actually.” Joe laughed awkwardly. “I need more colour in my wardrobe, don’t I? Although you’re the wrong person to ask. You’ll just say yes! But I feel more like your CPO now. Alejandro’s man.”

“And Paloma’s too.” He quirked his eyebrow. “Would you like to go for a wander in that amazing suit? Just you and me? I need to change first though, because I look like a tramp next to you!”

“I’d love to have a wander. I’ll see you in the lounge—well, drawing room, I suppose it is—in a couple of minutes?”

“Pick a colour?” Alejandro grinned, then added, “What would go best with your suit?”

“Purple,” Joe decided. “And shimmery?”

“Oh, you know I can do that with my eyes closed.” He winked. “Give me five minutes, Osito, and I shall be ready for the verdict of my favourite fashionista!”

Joe went off to the drawing room and occupied himself looking at the paintings. There were landscapes of forests, and cliffs studded with crumbling Roman temples. Tiny human beings in togas cowered below, rendered insignificant by their surroundings. Joe wasn’t a fan of those, so he turned his attention to portraits of Alejandro’s extended family, many years ago, as they posed in exquisite gowns. It was good to see that Alejandro was continuing the tradition.

“Ready, Sergeant!” Alejandro announced as he shimmered into the room. “I invited Sir Robert and Paloma to join us but they’re enjoying a bottle of bubbly and some bonbons.”

Although the drawing room was colourful already, Alejandro managed to brighten it up even more in his vivid purple trousers and a red shirt that glittered as if it were covered in sequins.

“An understated, everyday outfit.” Joe grinned. At least, it was everyday if your name was Alejandro. “You’ll be okay without your shoes on?”

“No shoes is the best feeling in the world when you spend hours in heels,” he said, with the hard-won wisdom of a queen. “I bet you know this place better than I do, don’t you? Granny’s house?”

“I’ve been here a few times, yes! But I’ve never stayed in a room like the one I’ve got here. It’s gorgeous.”

“Do they usually put you out in the stables?” Alejandro held out his hand. “In a tiny little attic filled with other muscular men who have shirtless pillow fights? Actually, that doesn’t sound too bad at all. Five stars. Would recommend!”

“Oh yes, strictly no shirts allowed. We do one-handed press-ups on the hour, too.” Joe took Alejandro’s hand. “Let’s go for a wander. Although, we can’t hold hands all the way round. They’d think I was your Too Close Protection Officer then!”

Which Joe knew very well he was, as CPOs didn’t generally massage their principals’ feet or introduce them to their childhood toys.

“So tell me more,” Alejandro teased as they headed through the apartment towards the door, “about these press-ups.”

Joe lowered his voice, trying to sound seductive. “We get very warm. Sweaty. But we keep going. And no shirts. Nope, none at all.”

“I like being platonic with you.” Alejandro lifted their joined hands and kissed Joe’s fingers where they held his own. “Especially when you tell me platonic policing anecdotes like that.”

“Did I mention the communal showers?” Joe raised an eyebrow. “Anyway, where shall we go first? The castle is ours!”

“Let’s go to the chapel?” It was a surprising choice perhaps but few CPOs hadn’t stood on duty in St George’s Chapel over the years, hoping that their earpieces didn’t feedback as the archbishop of the day read the Order of Service. “The sun’s setting, it’ll look amazing in the windows.”

Joe led them through the grand corridors, regretting that he had to let go of Alejandro’s hand when other officers and staff appeared. No one seemed to find anything odd about the duchess’ son wandering about barefoot, although Joe’s suit attracted surprised glances from officers he’d worked with in the past.

And Alejandro still had surprises of his own, producing a pair of folded ballet flats from his trouser pockets. He slipped the flimsy shoes onto his feet as they ventured out into the November dusk and, together, they crossed in front of the illuminated tower. Alejandro paused to snap a few photos of the castle as they went but soon they were on their way again, walking in companionable silence until finally, they reached the large doors to the chapel.

“Here we are, then.” Joe tried the door. It was unlocked and swung open, revealing the chapel’s interior to them.

“Look at this place!” Alejandro stepped over the threshold and into the vast expanse of the chapel. He spun in a circle, his face turned upwards towards the heavens. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

“It’s pretty big for a chapel, isn’t it?” Joe had never been inside while off-the-clock, or at least, not on such a relaxed visit. He gazed up at the columns, which seemed to spread stone branches up to the ceiling as if they were in a very grand petrified forest. “Almost looks like lace up there, doesn’t it, but it’s stone.”

“It’s magical.” He sighed, utterly contented. “I like to sit here when the choir practices. I don’t think I’m supposed to, but I do anyway.”

Joe gazed at the kaleidoscope of light in the stained glass. Above the choir stalls, the banners of the Knights of the Garter swayed ever so slightly in the breeze brought in by Joe and Alejandro. “No one’ll mind as long as you don’t distract them. Although I don’t suppose you should bust out some diva numbers while they’re practising. Could make Sundays more interesting, though!”

“The years after Papá died were horrible, but I never cried because I didn’t want Mamá to be sad again.” Alejandro led them up the wide aisle towards the altar, passing beneath the vast, glittering windows of the chapel. The dying daylight bathed them in a thousand colours just as it had generations that had walked this aisle before, from joyous newlyweds to mourning consorts. “The first time I came here, I hated it and I thought, I’ll run away to Madrid, I’ll be gone before they notice. I really meant to, but when I heard the choir, it felt like they were calling to me. So I came in here and I sat right at the back and I wept. And I felt closer to Papá than I ever had since I lost him.”

Alejandro was even more colourful than usual as the light touched him, and Joe wished he’d never had to lose his father nor his home. But standing here, where so many couples had stood to be married, Joe had to shut his eyes to stop himself from seeing the smashed wedding photograph again.

Joe squeezed Alejandro’s hand. As he opened his eyes again, his gaze settled on Alejandro illuminated by the ancient colours of the stained glass. “I’m so sorry for what happened to your father. I lost mine three years ago. I don’t know how I would’ve coped if I’d been a child. I still miss him, even though he was a bit of a tyrant. I know it sounds odd but I can still hear him in my head. ‘Sergeant Wenlock, are you having a cuppa?’ Silly, isn’t it?”

“Think of how proud he must have been. His sergeant son, looking after royalty.” Alejandro turned to face Joe, studying his face with his large eyes. “Do you still have a mamá?”

“I do, yes.” Joe nodded. “After Dad died, she moved to Bristol to live near my sister and her horde of kids. “She’s taken up line-dancing and dates retired divorcés! She’s having a great time. Mum’s always been happy in her own company. Comes with being a police officer’s wife, I suppose. Dad was ambitious, worked every shift he could get. I hope he’d be proud of me, but when I first started in this work, all he said was, ‘Bloody easy job, that!’”

Joe chuckled as he took Alejandro’s hand again.

“He never met me,” Alejandro said, his face lit by mischief. “Or he’d know it was anything but easy.”

Joe swung their joined hands. His dad would’ve been furious at such a breach of protocol, but Joe wasn’t going to live his life for his father anymore. “I did remember all your wigs, didn’t I? Everything you need for tomorrow?”

“Every last thing, even my new shoes. All I need to do is style the wig, then Admiral Paloma is ready to set sail!”

“Brushes, combs, lacquer… I did remember all that as well, I think. But I’m sure Abuelita would lend hers.” Joe glanced at his watch. “Is it dinner with the family this evening?”

“Not on the night before a performance,” Alejandro replied. “I was going to have a very quiet, pre-show evening all on my own. But I’d happily extend the invitation to a handsome, well-dressed copper to join me.”

“Thank you, I accept.” Joe gave Alejandro a small, courtly bow. Alejandro met it with a deep, formal curtsey of his own. He was almost ridiculously dainty, balletic even in his boy clothes.

Joe laughed and it echoed up into the high ceiling and reflected back from the walls. He covered his mouth. “Shhh, don’t tell anyone. I’ll be sent to the Tower for that!”

“I’d smuggle in a rope ladder in my hair and save you.” Alejandro looked at the altar, then at Joe. He fluttered his eyelashes, teasing. “What do you think, prettier than Princess Kate?”

“Yes. Even in ballet slippers.” Joe glanced down at the shape of Alejandro’s toes through the supple leather. “I didn’t know I had a thing for feet until I met you. Or perhaps it’s only your feet I’m so fond of.”

“My little feet.” He laughed. “Do you like them, Sergeant?”

“I do,” Joe replied. “They’re adorable. All of you is adorable.”

Alejandro stepped forward and buried his head against Joe’s shoulder. His arm encircled Joe’s waist. “I’ll blush,” he whispered.

Joe slipped his arm around him. It was odd to find the chapel such an intimate place when it was so well-known and funerals and weddings performed there had been broadcast around the world into people’s front rooms. But it was the light from the windows that held Joe spellbound as he ghosted his lips across Alejandro’s hair.

“If we were a couple, I’d always look after you.” Joe gently stroked Alejandro’s cheek. “You’re very precious, Alejo. I hope you know that.”

“I’d look after you too, I’d do anything for you.” He lifted his head and blinked at Joe. “Don’t say if. Say when.”

Joe leaned in a little closer, gently touching the tip of his nose to Alejandro’s. “I try not to, but I think of our kiss when we barely knew each other and I wonder how long it’ll be until I can kiss you again.”

“A little peck couldn’t do any harm,” Alejandro whispered.

Joe lightly pressed his lips to Alejandro’s cheek, just where he had stroked it. He smiled against Alejandro’s soft skin and turned his head a little, wondering if Alejandro wanted more than a dainty kiss on his cheek.

“Do lips count as platonic?” Alejandro asked, as though reading his mind.

“If we don’t linger, perhaps?” Joe turned his head a little farther, the edge of his lips just catching the corner of Alejandro’s mouth.

Sergeant Wenlock, this is disgraceful behaviour!

But Joe didn’t care. There was no disgrace in how he felt. There never had been.

And there was nothing platonic in the way Alejandro’s lips caught his, reawakening that kiss they had stolen on Halloween. And it was wonderful. It was like coming back to life.

Joe tightened his embrace, holding Alejandro close to him as if he feared he’d slip away again. In his arms was all he’d ever wanted. A man who looked at him with heat and affection in his gaze, who’d never be dull because he had no idea how to be. As Joe explored Alejandro’s mouth, his heart beating as fast as if he’d run a race, he wondered if he deserved to be with his Alejo, his Paloma. But Alejandro didn’t seem to mind.

“Sergeant Wenlock,” Alejandro whispered, “I’m yours if you want me. Muscles, kisses and sweet too. You’re the perfect man!”

Joe rested his forehead against Alejandro’s. How could he feel drunk? “I do want you. You and your lovely feet and your big eyes, and your… I’m not making much sense, am I? Bloody hell, this feels amazing!”

“And in a chapel! Naughty us!”

“They always kiss at the end of a wedding, don’t they?” Joe said as he gazed at Alejandro. “We’re just carrying on a noble tradition of kissing in the chapel.”

Alejandro kissed Joe’s cheek very tenderly and asked, “Can I show you Nana’s house, Officer?”

Joe smiled so broadly that he had no idea how he’d hide it in front of anyone they might meet. “I’d love you to.”

Going behind the velvet rope had long since ceased to be a big deal for Joe, who had been privy to some of the most personal moments and places in the lives of his charges. Going behind the velvet rope with Alejandro, however, proved a different matter indeed. His guided tour was focussed entirely on everything that was scandalous, on mistresses and saucy secrets and the most fabulous, gaudy rooms he could find. He plotted drag gowns inspired by Napoleon’s scarlet cloak, tutted disapprovingly at the ivory throne and took beaming selfies of the two of them at every opportunity.

“Not for Insta,” Alejandro promised. “For us.”

Joe now saw Windsor quite differently from how he had before. He didn’t want the tour to end, but eventually they wound their way back to Alejandro’s apartment.

“And who were these rooms for? I suppose my bedroom was just for show and was never slept in? And all the sleeping, so to speak, was going on in yours!”

“Cynical old you!” Alejandro took the ballet pumps from his pocket and dropped them beside the hearth. “Even mistresses needed a gal pal to keep them company when the men played cards! Think of the stories Lady Conyngham must have whispered in these rooms, all about her plump little King George!”

Joe laughed. “Discussing his bedroom peccadillos over her embroidery! My dear, he eats pies in bed and leaves crumbs in the blankets!”

“Pies everywhere!” Alejandro hooted. “I’d love a pie, you know. All those forbidden carbs! What tickles your tum, Sarge?”

“After all the walking we’ve done around the castle today, a pie wouldn’t go amiss here either,” Joe replied, patting his stomach. “And you’re most definitely allowed carbs if you want them. You’re a slender chap, we don’t want you to disappear!”

“And I need my energy for the show.” Alejandro nodded, seemingly having convinced himself. “I’ll call the people that do food, see if they can produce a massive pie for me and my man. Because my man needs taking care of!”

Joe kissed Alejandro’s cheek. He felt all warm inside. All soft. “I’ll lay the table. I know there’s staff who do that, but…” But it seemed right and nice and domesticated to do it for Alejandro. And he knew how Alejandro felt about servants anyway.

“I hope none of the old sailors will mind Paloma being a boy,” Alejandro mused as he crossed the room towards the phone. “I wouldn’t want them to be upset. I’m not doing anything too naughty. Lots of old wartime tunes, not much skin and a nice uniform. And I think their charity should get lots of coverage if there’s a drag queen with royal connections on the stage, don’t you think?”

“Well, Abuelito asked you to perform, so I’m sure they won’t complain. Might even bring back happy memories for some them!” Joe winked.

He opened the canteen of cutlery on the sideboard and selected what they needed for dinner from the antique collection. As he laid out the knives and forks on the dining table, he wondered who had used them before him, one hundred, two hundred years ago. Perhaps King George himself had tucked into a pie using this very set.

As he set their places, Alejandro was engaged in a cheery conversation with someone, more like ordering a takeaway than a member of the royal household speaking to the kitchens. Eventually he said his goodbyes and threw the phone onto the sofa, then came to join Joe at the table. It was ridiculously domestic, Joe realised, and ridiculously right.

“Do you think Sir Robert and Paloma have had a nice time without us?” Alejandro slipped his arm around Joe’s waist. “Windsor is better than Japan, you know. Maybe it isn’t, but I think Japan is too far away for my Osito to be.”

“It’s much too far away if you’re all the way over here.” Joe kissed Alejandro’s cheek again. “I do hope they’ve behaved themselves. Who knows what a bear and a toro might get up to while our backs are turned!”

“Whatever it was, I hope they had fun.” Alejandro turned his head a little, peering at Joe. “I haven’t always had much good luck with my men, you know. I choose badly too often. Even when my friends tell me somebody’s bad, I tell them, ‘Give him a chance,’ and they’re always right. I don’t know what’s going to happen for you and me—you might end up tired of little feet and huge wigs and Mariah—but I know I haven’t chosen badly this time. And I am sorry about everything with your wife and moving away…that must be horrible.”

Joe didn’t reply at once, instead pottering about as he searched for napkins in the sideboard. Then he closed the drawer he’d been rummaging in and looked up at Alejandro. “We’re getting a divorce. It’s okay, we’re trying to be amicable. At least, I think we are. She told me—” Joe pressed his hand to his forehead, then let it fall to his side. “She’s had affairs, Alejo. I wish she’d told me before.”

“Oh, Osito, I’m sorry.” Alejandro remained where he was for a second, then took a few steps forward and touched Joe’s hand softly. “Does she know? Did you tell her you’re gay?”

Shaking his head, Joe took Alejandro’s hand. He swallowed. “I don’t know how to,” he replied in a small voice.

“I don’t think anyone ever gets married intending to be unhappy or to have an affair or to break someone’s heart, but maybe one day you can both be friends again.” He cocked his head to one side, studying Joe. “I can’t imagine not being able to be me, Joe. Whatever happens in the future, promise me you’ll be you from today? I don’t mean just this amazing suit, I mean you. Because everything you are is wonderful.”

Wonderful? Me?

Joe lifted Alejandro’s hand and kissed it. “I’ll try my best. You’re a good example to follow.”

“I think what I’m trying to tell you, and you can ignore it if you like, is to remember that you and Mrs Sergeant must have been happy once.” He caressed Joe’s face with their joined hands. “Be friends if you can, please. The world needs more friends.”

“Maybe we can be friends. I don’t hate her. I just…” Joe sighed. “It’s sad. I wish I’d been able to be honest from the start. She’s not a bad person. She’s ambitious, certainly, which makes her seem a bit ruthless, but she needs to be in her work. She’s quite funny, really, but we forgot how to be friends as we saw so little of each other.”

“I bet you can. She’ll have the life she wants, you’ll have whatever life you want and I bet you’ll both be happier.” He leaned forward and kissed Joe’s cheek. “But it’s okay to be sad now, you know. I really am sorry.”

“You know, it’s a relief,” Joe admitted. “And weirdly, whoever broke into the house smashed, of all things, our wedding photo. Maybe it’s coincidence. Maybe they thought that was the most hurtful thing they could do.”

Alejandro’s mouth fell open. “They smashed your wedding photo? Who would do that?”

Joe shrugged. He didn’t want to alarm Alejandro, even if Leviticus had been behind the break-in. “Someone who thought we had a perfect marriage? I really don’t know. But whoever it was, we’re safe from them here.”

He nodded and replied, “And I bet your boss has made sure she’s safe too. There’re some bastards out there, aren’t they?”

Happily, Alejandro’s bastards did not extend to those responsible for dinner that night. Instead, the kitchens of Windsor Castle did the couple proud, with generous helpings of dinner arriving in the apartment as they’d requested. There were carbs to spare, just as Alejandro had wanted, and together they dined as they watched the moon rise over Windsor in a clear sky, studded with bright stars. They were safe tonight and Alejandro was right, Joe knew, for no harm would come to Wendy as long as she had the Greenhouse’s finest looking out for her.

After dinner, they sat on a sofa in Alejandro’s room with Sir Robert and Paloma. The bed was constantly in the corner of Joe’s eye and even as he allowed himself the occasional kiss with Alejandro, the bed’s looming presence kept reminding him of what might follow.

And we really mustn’t.

Even if Joe craved the closeness of Alejandro. He cuddled him tight instead. They had gone past platonic now, he knew. Not too far, but far enough that Alejandro clung to him in return, like young lovers on their first date.

Joe ran his lips across Alejandro’s hair. When he spoke, his voice was soft with affection. “When all this is over and you don’t need a CPO anymore, then…then I wouldn’t need to sleep in the bedroom along the corridor. If you’d have me.”

“And even if this isn’t over and you get lonely or just want a cuddle and a heart to heart, you don’t need to sleep along the hallway anyway.” Alejandro snuggled even closer, his silky shirt warm beneath Joe’s fingertips. “Sleeping is still platonic, after all.”

A delicious ripple of excitement went through Joe at that moment. “Well, it is a very big bed. We could easily avoid rolling into each other. And Sir Robert and Paloma would be excellent chaperones.”

Alejandro lifted his head to gaze at him, prettier than ever tonight. “We could open a bottle of something and snuggle up?”

“I shouldn’t drink on duty but you’re in one of the safest places you can be.” He’d already broken several protocols, so who would notice another? “Go on, open a bottle!”

“Let’s have a full-bodied Spanish red, just like Señorita Picante!” Alejandro planted a kiss on Joe’s jaw and rose from the sofa. “Then I’ll throw on my most extravagant fringed shorts and we can hop into bed!”

Joe’s heart leapt. So he was going to do it. At last. Go to bed with a man.

“Are my shorts okay? They don’t have fringes but I like to call them my Fighting Pants. Y’know, ready for anything in my boxers.”

“Maybe one day, when Fuckface is safely locked away, I’ll see what you’re ready for out of them.” Alejandro winked and took a wine bottle and corkscrew from an ornate cabinet. He plunged the corkscrew into the neck and twisted it then gave a few experimental pulls before he turned to Joe and in a voice that was more Paloma than Alejandro asked, “Will you help a girl in trouble, Officer?”

“That’s what I’m here for, Ms Picante.” Joe stood behind Alejandro and reached around him, holding the bottle and the corkscrew with Alejandro. “Ready for a bit of a tug?”

“Thank heavens for those muscles,” Alejandro purred seductively. “You might need to pull super hard.”

Joe brushed his lips against Alejandro’s ear. “Really, really hard.”

With a soft grunt, Joe pulled the corkscrew and with a pop the bottle was opened. “I think we’ve earned ourselves a drink!”

“In bed, Osito?”

“Well, yes.” Joe kissed Alejandro’s ear. “Which side do you sleep on?”

“In the middle, like a glamorous starfish, but I’ll fit around you.” He pecked a kiss to Joe’s cheek. “I just need to change!”

Joe let Alejandro out of his arms then, after standing at the foot of the bed feeling puzzled as to how they managed to find sheets that were big enough to fit it, he placed the bottle on a side table and kicked off his shoes. Then he carefully took off his new suit and draped it over a priceless gilt-edged chair with his shirt and his covert vest. Dressed only in his shorts, Joe climbed into the huge bed.

Usually the thought of anything forbidden repelled Joe, the good copper, but he stretched his arms above his head, happy to be reckless. And very happy to have an audience.

Alejandro, having watched the impromptu show appreciatively, blew a kiss towards Joe, making no secret of the way he was sweeping his eyes over his bodyguard’s exposed torso. He put two crystal glasses down beside the bed then, with a pause just to ruffle Joe’s hair, he gave a coquettish wave and stepped behind a chinoiserie screen. Joe was perfectly content to listen to the sound of Alejandro’s melodic hum as he studied the screen, on which lacquered fish darted and weaved through colourful underwater plants. Perfect for Alejandro and Paloma, bright, beautiful and exotic. When Alejandro emerged, he was dressed only in the fringed shorts that Joe had packed for him, scarlet tassels swirling around his hips.

The scarlet shorts that Alejandro had put in his list, presumably because the turquoise ones were in the wash.

Joe propped himself up on his elbow to watch Alejandro. “Have you ever worn those on stage?”

“Should I?” He gave a twirl. “I’ve got lots of colours!”

“You should! They’re very…” Joe murmured as he toyed with the tassel on the corner of his pillow, his gaze never leaving Alejandro. “They’re very exciting.”

“They give a boy hips,” Alejandro confided, another twirl setting the fringes twirling again. “Can I join you, Sarge?”

“Please do.” Joe rolled over and peeled back the sheets for Alejandro. And, of course, there it was. “I know we need to keep this platonic, but the contents of my shorts missed the memo. So…pretend there’s nothing going on down there. It’s those fringes of yours, Alejo, and those lovely bare feet.”

“Have you bought your truncheon?” Alejandro climbed in beside him and pulled the sheets up. Then he turned onto his side, fixed Joe with a gaze filled with mischief and asked, “Do you like my tassels?”

Joe slipped his arm around Alejandro’s waist, snuggling as close as he dared. Desire lanced through him and he wanted to kiss Alejandro into the pillow. Not yet, Sergeant! “Truncheon ready and correct, sir. And those tassels…“

Joe stroked down from Alejandro’s waist to cup his fringe-covered buttock. “What a perfect way to clothe a bottom!”

“I feel safe with you. Like nothing bad could get near me.” Alejandro’s voice was gentle.

Joe touched the tip of his nose to Alejandro’s, the scent of Alejandro’s exotic cologne filling the air between them. “Nothing can. I won’t let it.”

“I’ve struggled, Joe,” he admitted quietly. “When Papá died, it was like the world ended. It was easier to play the brat so it didn’t hurt so much. But if someone like you likes me then I feel like maybe, well, maybe Alejandro’s pretty good too. Like Paloma’s not the only one who deserves to feel fierce.”

“Alejo, you’re wonderful.” Joe relinquished Alejandro’s exotically clad bottom and played with his hair. “That bratty exterior is armour. It’s like that vest I wear. But you don’t always need it. If you can be fierce when you’re Paloma, then you can be fierce when you’re Alejo.”

“You wouldn’t want me to put Paloma away though, would you?” Alejandro smiled, sliding his arm around Joe’s waist. “I think you have a secret little crush on her.”

“She is rather gorgeous!” Joe blushed. “I’m looking forward to her show tomorrow. Paloma’s the only woman I’ve ever fancied, but seeing as you’re inside her, that shouldn’t come as a surprise.”

“And it won’t surprise you to know that I’ve never been inside another woman.” Alejandro frowned. “Oh, I was inside Mamá but— Oh my God, that sounds horrific!” He laughed then, and brought his hand down to administer a gentle smack on Joe’s bottom. “You make me too silly!”

Joe giggled. Actually giggled. When had he ever done that before? “Don’t worry, by the way. I wouldn’t ask you to get gussied up as Paloma in bed. I can’t imagine that would be very comfortable to sleep in. And you’d get make-up all over the pillows.”

“A gorgeous shroud of Turin!” Alejandro giggled too but his hand didn’t retreat from Joe’s bottom. Instead it lingered and he gave an experimental squeeze as he declared, “Oh my God. There are muscles here too!”

Joe’s body had never been so thoroughly appreciated before. He tensed his buttocks, then relaxed them again. “Did you like that? Shall I do it again?”

“If it’s no trouble, Osito,” came that Paloma-esque purr again. “Is this what the British call platonic?”

“Yes, we’re a naughty bunch, we Brits! I’m sure all you sexy Mediterranean types are surprised!” Joe tensed his buttocks again, then once more. “Firm, isn’t it? It’s all those squats I do.”

“If you ever need someone to hold your towel in the gym… You’re all firm and gorgeous!” Alejandro squeezed his hand on Joe’s bottom again, giving a theatrical shiver of delight. “I just want to stroke you all over!”

Joe moaned with pleasure. “I wish you would.” He shuffled closer, but his erection prodded Alejandro’s thigh. “Sorry!”

“Paloma has a show tomorrow and that means Alejandro must behave tonight. I could stay up all night and kiss every inch of you, but those brave seamen wouldn’t thank me for it!” Alejandro kissed Joe’s nose. “I prescribe a glass of wine and some cuddles for my lovely Sergeant Wenlock.”

Stay up all night?

Now there’s a thought.

“Wine.” Joe nodded. “Let’s get stuck in with the wine.”

Joe reached over for the opened bottle he’d sat by the bed. The rich, dark scent of a distant sunny vineyard filled his senses. Alejandro handed him the two crystal glasses from his own side of the bed but his face had darkened, the hint of a frown there as he asked in a voice small with trepidation, “Have I made you angry?”

Joe glanced up to meet Alejandro’s gaze as he poured the wine. He was perfectly happy and wondered what in his demeanour had made Alejandro think he was angry. But some people thought that about a toned man like Joe, that his muscles indicated he was harbouring simmering aggression.

“No, you haven’t at all. I’m sorry. I’m halfway to bulky, I don’t mean to look intimidating. Unless I have to.”

“Intimidating? I think you’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever met, and the sweetest too,” Alejandro admitted. Then he shook his head and smiled, the tension in his face melting away. He nodded towards the neat plaster on his shoulder, a memory of Zak’s furious tantrum. “All those bad choices of mine, I’m sorry. I’m not used to being with someone as lovely as you.”

Joe shook his head as he passed Alejandro his glass of wine. “Oh, darling, I’d never force you to do anything you didn’t want to do.” Joe put the bottle back on the table and took a sip of the strong, velvety wine. “That’s what I like about you, and this wine. Uncompromising. Unambiguous. Forcing you to— No. I never would. And where’s the fun if you’re not both enjoying it? I can wait. To be honest, I’m pretty pleased we’re even sat here in bed like this!”

“Am I really your darling?”

“Is it a bit too early for that?” Joe ruffled Alejandro’s hair. “I’m not very good at this.”

“It’s not too early. We’ve been together all day, every day, and look how well we’re getting on.” He took a sip of wine then raised his glass. “To my Sarge and all those wonderful firm bits!”

“To Alejo and Paloma and fringed shorts!” Joe clinked his glass against Alejandro’s. “My darling Alejo, that is.”

“And kisses. Oodles of them.”

“I should think so too.” Joe kissed Alejandro’s cheek. But even that didn’t seem platonic anymore. And one day they wouldn’t be CPO and principal, but something more. Exactly what, Joe didn’t dare to imagine, but wherever life took them, this seemed like a good start. The little bear and bull looked on approvingly from the dressing table, their gold braid bows shining in the moonlight, and Alejandro snuggled against Joe again, his sigh of contentment the only sound in the silent night.