Page 48 of Provoked

“Of course not,” David protested, but he knew there was an element of truth in Euan’s slur. When David had first come to the city, he’d been shocked by the widespread poverty. Now he was inured to it all—the beggars, the prostitutes, the dirty, ragged poor of the city. He walked by them every day and, for the most part, ignored their pleas. It was impossible to do otherwise if you were to get on with life. Impossible to help everyone. Anyone.

“It wasn’t so bad,” Euan continued. “I had a good hiding place to watch from and catch up on my sleep when I couldn’t stay awake any longer. It took a few days, but eventually, today, he came. Like he was answering my prayers.”

“It’s definitely him?”

“Aye. I’d know him anywhere. He looks like that other one, from the assembly, but you wouldn’t mistake either of them for the other, once you see them properly. They’re alike, but notthatalike.” He smiled then, almost dreamily. “I followed him when he came out from visiting his lass. I was that tired and hungry, Davy, and it felt like he’d never stop walking. But eventually he went back to where he’s staying. You should see it. It calls itself a hotel but it’s nothing better than a whore’s den, from what I seen.”

“So now you know where he lives.”

“That I do. I came straight here after. I meant to tell you and go back without waiting. But—” He broke off.

“But?”

Euan dropped his head back against the chair, and his eyelids fell again, purplish and puffy from lack of sleep. “I was so tired…” He sighed.

“You were right to stop,” David said, his voice low and soothing. “You needed to eat and rest. No one can keep going so long without food or sleep.”

By the time David had finished his short speech, Euan had dropped off, his jaw slackening, mouth falling open to let out the slow, regular breaths of sleep. He was gone so suddenly, so thoroughly, he must’ve been tired enough to fall asleep standing up.

David refilled his whisky glass.

He sat in his armchair and watched the younger man sleep for a long time, while the logs in the fireplace burned down to white ash and the spirit in the bottle dwindled.

He was relieved Euan had come to him, that he had this chance to talk with the lad before the confrontation. He’d never be able persuade Euan to give up on his quest to face up to Lees, but he could at least go with him. Lees wouldn’t be able to dispatch two of them, he hoped.

In his heart of hearts, David hadn’t believed it would ever come to this. Euan’s plan had seemed hopeless to him at the beginning. Unlikely. God, but he regretted that arrogance. Not only had he been wrong, he’d become pivotal to Euan’s plan. It was David who had found Isabella Galbraith. David who had been the means of Euan locating his quarry.

If Lees harmed Euan—killed him even—David would be responsible.

“Why does everythin’ have to be black or white, wi’ you, son?”

That was what his mother used to say to him after he fought with the old man.

“Ye’re just like each other. Unbendin’ as bloody oak trees.”

Was he unbending?

What was it Balfour had called him?An idealist.

That sounded better, but it meant the same thing, didn’t it? An absolutist? A man so wedded to his principles he couldn’t accept there were shades of grey?

No, that wasn’t it. David knew very well there were shades of grey. He just didn’t feel they applied to him. For good or ill, he’d never been able to give himself an easy way out. And he wouldn’t now.

If Euan was harmed on this wild quest of his, it would be on David’s soul.

Chapter Fourteen

It was his neck that woke him.

A deep pain. David stirred and winced, the ache sharp when he moved the head that had lolled awkwardly as he slept.

He’d fallen asleep in his chair. Had he been drinking again?

The candles had burned down while he was unconscious. Now the only light came from a ghost of a fire in the grate. Its weak glow touched the edges of the furniture, just enough for David to make out the terrain of the room.

In the time it took him to shift in his chair, blink his eyes and assess the state of his head—clear and pain-free; he couldn’t have drunk that much—he remembered. Opening the door to Euan. Feeding him and listening to him.

David’s eyes shifted to the other armchair. He wasn’t surprised to see it was empty but still cursed under his breath. He hadn’t intended to sleep. He hadn’t even thought he was particularly tired. His own fault, though, for drinking and allowing his eyes to close.