Page 51 of Enlightened
“What? Are you mad?”
Murdo laughed, though he sounded far from amused. “No, but you’re blind. I’ll wager he’ll try to get you into his bed when you see him tomorrow.”
David just stared at him. It was ridiculous. So far from any remote possibility that it would’ve been funny were it not for the fact that Murdo seemed to be deadly serious.
“I can assure you that won’t happen. Will has no interest in me.” Even as he said it, an insidious memory intruded—of Will’s hand on his forearm and the murmur of David’s old name on the other man’s lips.
“Davy—”
But that really was ridiculous. He shook his head to dislodge the thought.
Murdo stayed silent, his mouth set in a mutinous line, unconvinced. A bolt of tenderness struck at David to see Murdo’s obvious unhappiness, and his next words were gentle.
“Murdo, Will’s not like us. He chose to marry, chose to be with awoman—” When Murdo gave a harsh laugh, David broke off. “What?”
“You. You’re so naïve.” Murdo smiled thinly, leaning closer. “Over the years, I’ve seen your Will at a number of, well, let’s call them evening entertainments, and I can tell you that he’s as much like you and I as it’s possible to be. I’ve seen him with my own eyes. He likes to be watched, you know. The last time, as I recall, he had his cock buried in a grenadier guard and—”
“Jesus, Murdo, stop!”
David recoiled, sickened. Horror swamped him—that Murdo had known all about Will, and about his indiscretions, and never said. That he had hugged the knowledge to himself and let David demonstrate his foolish naïveté before he said even one word.
Murdo leaned in even closer.
“Why should I stop?” he hissed, his mouth twisted in a savage snarl. “Prefer the fantasy, do you? The pure boy who wouldn’t let you so much as touch him? The love of your fucking life?”
“He’s not the love of my life, you idiot!” David snapped, incensed by Murdo’s obtuseness. “You are!”
For a long moment, neither of them said anything. David’s breath was coming hard with unfamiliar anger, and Murdo was staring at him, eyes wide with almost comical astonishment.
“Did you—” Murdo began. “That is… What did you say?”
David glanced away, heart thudding now. “You heard me.”
There was another long pause, then Murdo said, “You know, you really shouldn’t say something like that if you don’t mean it.” His voice shook slightly.
David looked up at that, to encounter an expression he rarely saw on Murdo’s face: uncertainty.
“Of course I mean it,” he replied. “Have you ever known me to say something I don’t mean?”
Murdo thought about that. “No. No, I haven’t.” He closed his eyes, then swallowed. “It’s just, I’ve loved you for so long, David. I really didn’t think you felt the same way.”
“Wh-what?” David stuttered. “How could you think that? And wait… You love me?”
“Yes, of course. Isn’t it obvious?”
“No! Though how you can say that you didn’t thinkIlovedyou—” He broke off, his voice cracking with disbelief.
“You’ve never seemed to want what I want. You’re always telling me that what we have can’t last, that we have to be careful. Always reminding me that you’ll be leaving me soon.” Murdo swallowed. “To be frank, I feared that if I told you how I felt, it would only make you leave all the sooner.”
Even in the shadowy carriage, David could see the private grief written in Murdo’s dark, liquid gaze. It made David’s heart hurt. He raised his hand to touch Murdo’s face, tracing the strong, determined line of the other man’s jaw, running the pad of his thumb over those wide, generous lips. This man, whose face was now as familiar to David as his own, had harboured these secrets from him, and he hated that. Hated especially that everything Murdo had just mentioned—David’s constant reminders that they could not stay together, that he had to leave—came from David putting the world first and Murdo second.
“Love should not be denied.”
“God, I’m sorry,” he whispered, appalled. “I’m so very sorry. You deserve more.”
David felt like he was breaking open, like the truth was tearing its way out of him. Somehow, Murdo had become more important to him than anything else. Everything he’d worked for—respectability, a shining career, wealth—all of it would be ashes in his mouth if he lost Murdo.
“To hell with what I deserve,” Murdo whispered. “All I want is you.”