Page 35 of Beguiled
“Shall I suck you?” he asked.
Murdo’s eyes glittered. “Yes, but stay like this awhile longer. I like you here.”
So David did, enjoying the warmth of the fire and the feel of Murdo beneath him, around him. Enjoying the tentative intimacy that was growing between them and that felt almost tangible, here, in this warm, secret corner of the world.
Chapter Ten
Tuesday, 20thAugust, 1822
Parliament House was deserted, the faculty library as bare of living souls as Greyfriars cemetery. David was the only man in the place. Even old Mr. McGilchrist, who’d sat at the same desk every day for the last thirty years, wasn’t in today.
The celebrations for the King’s visit seemed to have overtaken the city to such an extent that the ordinary everyday business of living, including the work of the courts, had ground to a halt.
It was a good day to catch up on work, though, and David had much to catch up on. Three opinions to write and a petition to draft by the end of the week. Strange to think that it wasn’t so very long ago that he’d been worried about where his next case was coming from.
Chalmers’s patronage had changed that completely. Not only did he get a steady stream of work from Chalmers himself, several of the solicitors who instructed Chalmers had taken to engaging him directly. And the cases he was being used for were getting bigger, more valuable, more complicated. More satisfying. Mr. Russell of Guild & Russell, one of the busiest firms in the city, had even proposed David to join Russell’s exclusive private club as soon as a space became available, and whilst David would never have sought membership for himself, there was no doubt it was pleasing to be asked. His sudden success—as unexpected as it was longed for—was heady. But he certainly had to work hard for it.
Without Donald Ferguson around to badger him to eat, David worked past the hour at which he usually ate luncheon and well into the afternoon, entirely caught up in answering the questions posed in Russell’s latest memorial. It was only when one of the library clerks touched his shoulder that he finally looked up from his books.
“Sorry to interrupt you, Mr. Lauriston, but there’s a gentleman asking for you. A Mr. MacLennan.”
David blinked his surprise. He hadn’t expected another visit, not after Euan’s hasty departure from his rooms.
“Is he waiting in the hall?” David asked, wincing as he straightened. Hours of stooping over books had left him stiff.
“Yes, sir.”
“All right, thank you, I’ll go and see him now. Would you replace these volumes for me?”
The clerk’s eyebrows rose to see the size of the pile of books David was referring to, but he agreed readily enough, and David left his desk, abandoning his scattered notes where they lay.
He made his way out the bowels of the library and entered Parliament Hall, his footsteps echoing as he crossed the empty floor to the man who stood at the other end, his hands linked behind his back as he contemplated a marble bust of some judge of the last century.
The last time Euan had come to this building looking for David, he’d been a boy, self-conscious of his lanky height and twisting his hat in his hands. Today, he was someone else entirely. He stood tall and broad and confident, smartly clothed and clean-shaven. A respectable man of the world.
He smiled as David drew closer, holding out his hand. “Davy, it’s good to see you again.”
David shook the proffered hand, watching Euan carefully. “And you. What can I do for you?”
“I’m afraid I was very rude the other day, at your rooms. Rushing off that like that, I mean.” Euan offered an apologetic smile. “I was in a hurry, but it’s no excuse. Will you let me buy you a dram to make up for it?” His expression was open, the regret in his gaze sincere.
“I’ve rather a lot of work to do,” David replied, thinking of Murdo’s warnings, then felt a stab of guilt.
“Can’t you spare me an hour?” Euan asked. “I wanted to let you know about Peter.”
David paused. “You’ve news?”
Peter, Euan’s brother, had been transported to the Antipodes for treason two years before. David had always wondered if he’d survived the journey.
“Better than that.” Euan smiled. “I got a letter from him, a few months ago now. Come on, Davy, even if you’re busy, you can spare me an hour, can’t you? We’ll go to the Tolbooth Tavern like we used to, but this time I’ll buy your whisky.”
Curiosity about Peter—and perhaps a kind of foolish loyalty to Euan—won over wisdom.
“All right,” David said. “You go ahead. I’ll meet you there in twenty minutes.”
“Good.” Euan’s smile became a grin. “I’ll see you there.”
Euan took his leave, and David went back to the library to tidy his papers. Though he packed his notes away, he left his satchel at his desk. He would come back here to work on later. A few drams wouldn’t affect his concentration. Indeed, sometimes it felt like he worked better with the mellow glow he got from whisky.