Page 30 of Beguiled
David didn’t hesitate for a moment. He put down his tankard and stepped off his stool. “All right. Let’s go. They’re only a few minutes’ walk away.”
Murdo’s smile blossomed, quick and surprised. “Good,” he said, as though he hadn’t expected such easy agreement. “Good, that’s good.”
He turned his head, lifting his hand to catch the innkeeper’s attention, and the man immediately came over to them, wiping his hands on his apron.
“Can I get you anythin’ else, gents?”
“No, thank you.” Murdo drew a handful of coin from his pocket and dropped it into the man’s meaty palm without even checking what he was handing over. It was enough that no more need be said apparently. The innkeeper murmured his thanks and his hope that they would come again soon.
They jammed their hats on and left the cosy tavern, emerging into a night that was cool and somewhat misty.
“It’s this way,” David said, turning to walk up the hill. “On Castlehill.”
“Let me speak to my coachman first,” Murdo said. “I won’t be a minute.”
He sauntered over to where his carriage waited and passed a minute’s conversation with the man sitting on the box.
As he walked back towards David, the horses began to move, the carriage rumbling away.
“Where is he going?” David asked when Murdo reached him. “You can’t stay with me, I’m afraid—I only have one bed and my maid comes very early in the morning. And you can’t possibly walk back to Queen Street dressed like that.” He gestured at Murdo’s exquisitely elegant clothes. “You’ll be set upon.”
“Don’t worry,” Murdo replied with an amused smile. “I’ve only sent him away for a few hours. He’s coming back for me.”
“Oh.” David relaxed, relieved. “Well, in that case, follow me.”
Chapter Nine
Murdo followed David up the worn stone stairs of the close that led to his rooms, waiting silently in the dark as David unlocked the front door before following him into the more profoundly dark interior.
Moving with the ease of long practice, David brushed past Murdo to lock up behind them, his fingers finding bolts and keyholes without needing to see them.
“Follow me,” he said, stepping past Murdo to head down the hallway. “It’s dark, but Ellen will have left a fire ready to be lit in the parlour, so we’ll soon have light.”
“Where the hell are you?” came Murdo’s amused voice in reply, then a touch to David’s shoulder as Murdo found him. His hand was warm and heavy, and when David turned his head, he was suddenly able to make out the faintest outline of Murdo’s body standing opposite him, a dark shape amongst all the other shadows.
“Sorry. Here, give me your hand.” David placed his own on Murdo’s, smiling when Murdo loosely entwined their fingers.
It was only a few steps down the hall to the parlour. David drew Murdo behind him, through the door and right into the depths of the room, carefully guiding him till he stood in front of his best armchair before giving him a gentle shove. Murdo yelped in surprise as he overbalanced, laughing as he hit the seat.
“Where are you now?” Murdo asked.
“Lighting the fire,” David replied as he knelt before the grate, fumbling for the tinder box. “Not that I’d expect you to think of that. I don’t suppose you’ve ever had to light a fire for yourself.”
Murdo laughed again. “Not indoors,” he admitted. “Though my brothers and I used to be fond of lighting them in the woods at home. Much to our tutor’s dismay.”
“Typical boys.” David snorted, striking the flint to sprinkle sparks over the kindling. “That’s just what William and I used to do.”
“William’s your brother?”
“No, my brother’s called Drew. William was—a friend.”
Murdo must’ve heard the pause. “Just a friend?”
“Yes, just a friend.” David struck the flint again, bringing it closer to the kindling this time. “Though I mistook him for something else for a while.”
Another shower of sparks, and another, then there it was—a tiny tongue of flame, just licking at the kindling. David leaned forward and blew. A puff of encouragement.
“What kind of something else? A lover?”