Page 39 of Enlightened
“I’m sorry,” he added more quietly. “I was worried.”
David leaned back against the edge of the desk, the better to look Murdo in the eye. It seemed, though, that the other man wasn’t for meeting David’s gaze. He stared at the shiny mahogany surface of the desk as though fascinated by it, a faint flush heating his high cheekbones.
“You knew I was with friends,” David said carefully. “I told you where I was going. And it’s not so very surprising I didn’t come back, given the lateness of the hour, is it? Would you have preferred me to walk home in the dark?”
Murdo shook his head. “You misunderstand me. I was worried something may have befallen you on the way.”
“Well, that’s just silly. It was still light when I set off.” David gave a soft chuckle, but it died in his throat when he saw the expression on Murdo’s face and realised he was perfectly serious.
“I was worried that my father may have arranged for someone to follow you,” Murdo said. “It didn’t occur to me till after you left, but once I thought of it, I couldn’t stop. I was convinced you were lying, beaten, in some alleyway.”
“What? He wouldn’t do that, would he?”
Murdo considered, his brows drawn together. “I just don’t know,” he said after a long pause. “But then I didn’t think he even knew about you—until he came here yesterday and made it clear he was well aware I had someone staying with me at Laverock House.” He shook his head, lips thinning. “Which means that someone’s been sending him reports—just when I thought I’d weeded all of that out.”
“But why go to the bother of setting someone on my heels? What does that achieve?”
“To get you out the way,” Murdo said flatly. “You’re an obstacle to his plans. And I feel like the worst sort of fool because I’m the one who made him see it.”
David swallowed, his gut clenching with nerves. “How do you think you managed that?”
“For months I’ve been ignoring his demands to return to London to get married. Ignoring him is how I deal with him, you see. I realised long ago that it’s a mistake to fall into the trap of providing explanations for not doing what he wants. Refusing to speak to him is so much more effective and satisfying. Unfortunately, I made an error of judgment when he came here yesterday.”
“What error?”
“I should have sat back and waited for him to play his hand. He’d’ve revealed that he knew about you eventually, if I’d been patient. Instead, I jumped in with both feet. Told him straight off that I wouldn’t be going through with the wedding. I thought you were asleep upstairs and that he was entirely unaware of your existence. But just before you came down, he asked whether my decision was something to do with the man I’d had living with me for the last six months.” Murdo paused, then added, “And then you arrived.”
David closed his eyes. “Damn. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It was my stupid fault. If I’d done what I usually do—just listened to whatever he had to say without blurting out my own thoughts—I’d’ve got a hint from him eventually that he knew about you, and that would have changed everything.” He looked up at David, his gaze pleading. “But for once, I didn’t have the patience for his games—I just wanted to get it over with. End it. Go and see Lord Hartley and negotiate the compensation and the terms of the announcement.” He swallowed. “I couldn’t think of anything but getting the whole thing over with as soon as possible so I could tell you, at last, and we could go home to Laverock.”
Home.
Murdo’s face was grey with exhaustion and despair, every line of his big body tense. He rubbed his whiskery face with his big hands while David watched and wondered what to say. The anger that had sent David stalking off to Blackfriars yesterday was already slipping from his grasp, despite the nagging feeling he ought not to let it go.
Was he a fool to think about forgiving Murdo for keeping his engagement a secret? Or was Murdo’s secrecy understandable? He couldn’t decide what was the more reasonable position, and the more he thought about it, the more he realised that he felt as tired as Murdo looked.
Well, perhaps he didn’t need to decide. Not now. Perhaps that could wait till more immediate concerns were taken care of.
He reached out his hand to Murdo.
“You’ve barely slept these last few days,” he murmured. “And I’m not doing much better. There’s no sense hashing this out now. Let’s go to bed and get some sleep. We can talk about things properly when we’re less exhausted.”
Murdo looked up at him, his expression defeated. “How can I go to bed, David? I’ve put you in danger. We need to talk about how we’re going to keep you safe. I don’t—”
“Later,” David interrupted firmly. “We can talk about all of that tonight. For now, you need to sleep. And in truth, so do I. I was on Euan and Elizabeth’s floor last night, and my hip ached so badly I barely slept an hour.” He gave a lopsided smile.
Murdo didn’t say anything for a moment. Then he sighed, stood up and set his hand in David’s. “Provided you come with me,” he said, “I won’t argue.”
Chapter Thirteen
When David awoke, it was late afternoon. He’d slept nearly four hours, dead to the world from the moment his head touched the pillow. Four hours probably shouldn’t have been enough to make up for two nights of missed sleep, but somehow it was. He felt refreshed and alert.
He shifted onto his side to look at Murdo, who was sleeping on his front, his face hidden in the crook of one burly arm. David smoothed his hand over Murdo’s almost-black hair, enjoying the soft feel of it below his fingers.
“Hmmm.”
He drew back at Murdo’s moan of pleasure, not wanting to wake him, but it was too late. Murdo stirred and, a moment later, turned over to smile lazily at David.