Now David’s upper body was naked and his breeches and smallclothes were open, displaying his turgid shaft and tight balls and the springy, copper-tinged curls framing them.
Murdo shifted below him, bringing both arms around David’s body. He anchored his injured hand round David’s waist while he ran the other hand restlessly over David’s chest. His fingers brushed David’s nipples, lingering when David moaned, teasing the small buds gently and pinching them sweetly. The pleasure that simple attention elicited was absurdly intense, as though a wire connected David’s nipples to his balls. He arched up, wanting more. Murdo laughed softly and obliged him, turning his head to nuzzle the side of David’s neck. The scrape of his rough cheek against the soft flesh there was exquisite, the press of his hot mouth too.
“Keep stroking yourself,” Murdo muttered, bucking his own hips up against David’s buttocks so that David couldn’t miss that he too was intensely aroused.
David obeyed, tugging at his swollen shaft, his hand working more quickly now, the pleasure building in his cock, his balls.
“God, yes, that’s it. You need this so badly, don’t you? You can’t wait. Let me see you come all over yourself.”
And suddenly David was coming, crying out as he climaxed, his hot seed spattering his belly and chest, one drop landing shoulder-high, making Murdo laugh softly. “Oh you eager boy!”
When he was all wrung out, David lay, panting on top of Murdo, letting the slowly receding waves of pleasure ebb away, letting Murdo’s caressing hands and murmuring praise ease him back to the world.
Murdo’s own unfulfilled desire pressed underneath him, demanding and undeniable. David shifted, turning a little.
“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, 20th August, 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.
Donning his hat for the sake of respectability, David set off for the Tolbooth Tavern. It was only a few minutes down the High Street, and soon he was opening the door and stepping inside.
It was busy, but Euan had managed to secure them a nook by one of the windows, just a bit of ledge to sit on and a small rough table. He waved at David, beckoning him over.
When David got there, he saw that Euan had already bought the drink. A little earthenware jug of whisky sat, waiting to be poured into a small pewter cup. Euan himself was drinking ale. David wondered if it was still his habit to avoid the spirits his older brother had so disapproved of.
“You came,” Euan said, smiling.
“Of course. I said I would, didn’t I?” David squeezed into the narrow window seat beside the other man and poured himself a measure of the hard stuff. He took a gulp. It was rough and fiery. Very far from the best whisky he’d ever tasted, but still, that burn was an old, familiar friend.
“You’re a man of your word,” Euan agreed.
“I like to think so,” David replied, taking his hat off and laying it on the table. “So, what news of your brother?”
Euan reached into the inside pocket of his coat and drew out a paper. “Read for yourself,” he said, handing it to David.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, go on.”
David unfolded the letter and began to read Peter’s neat, copperplate handwriting. The tone of it was typical of the man, pithy and understated. He hadn’t had to suffer “too many floggings” on his arrival, he said. And though the first year had been “unpleasant”, he’d finally been assigned to a “good master” who appreciated his skills and literacy. Now he was foreman at the man’s works, and was married.
“Married!” David exclaimed, looking up.
Euan grinned—really grinned this time. “Can you imagine it? My bachelor brother with a woman?”
David gave a laugh. Peter had not been near as handsome as his younger brother, and though big and capable and a passionate radical, had been oddly shy with women. Perhaps the conditions of New South Wales gave a woman a different view of what was important in a husband. Or perhaps it gave a man a different view of himself.
“It sounds as though he’s making the best of it,” David said, folding the letter up and handing it back.
“Yes,” Euan agreed as he tucked it away again. “I think he is. Though I know that when he says the first year was bad that it must have been truly horrible. And the thought of Peter having to suffer one of those brutal floggings you hear about—” He swallowed. “I can only hope this Mr. Munroe will keep him on.”
“It sounds promising that he will,” David pointed out. “I’ll warrant this Monroe chap has seen what a steady character Peter is and how profitable he can be to the man’s business.”
A little of the worry faded from Euan’s eyes. “You’re right,” he said firmly. “Peter would be an asset to anyone.”
David lifted his cup in a toast. “To Peter,” he said.
“To Peter,” Euan repeated, lifting his tankard. They clicked rims and drank deeply.
After a brief silence, David asked, “And what of Peter’s hopes for you?”
The letter had ended with Peter exhorting Euan not to give up his dreams of the Kirk, to try to complete his education.
Euan shrugged. “I wrote back straightaway, so he should know by now that I’ve become a journalist and won’t ever be a minister of the Kirk.”
“Will he mind, do you think?”
“I think he’ll be as proud as a cockerel. He was never much of a churchgoer anyway. No, his next quest will probably be to persuade me to marry too.”
David laughed. “And is there a lady who has your eye?”
Euan didn’t answer straightaway. He looked down into his ale as though considering what to say, and when he raised his gaze again, he still didn’t seem sure.
“There is someone,” he admitted. “But she is beyond me.”
“Her position, you mean?”
“That, and her marital state.”
A married woman. Now, that was unwise, but when had Euan ever been wise?
“You know her.”
David looked at Euan sharply. “I know her? Who—”
The name that occurred to him, that made him break off mid-sentence, was confirmed by Euan in his next breath.
“Lady Kinnell.”
“What?” David exclaimed. “But you’ve barely spoken to her.”
“I know.” Euan shook his head and gave a hopeless laugh. “It’s ridiculous, isn’t it?”
“I wouldn’t say ridiculous precisely, but you met her for the first time just days ago and—”
“It was the second time I saw her,” Euan interrupted.
“Sorry?”
“It was the second time I saw her.”
“She looked at you like you’d hung the moon in the sky for her. I was sure she was in love with you. I thought you were a lucky dog.”
“The ball at the Assembly Rooms,” David said slowly, understanding dawning.
“Yes.” Euan’s cheeks reddened, and he added almost defiantly, “Don’t you believe in love at first sight?”
“Is that what happened to you?” David asked. “You fell in love with her that night, two years ago? Just from seeing her?”
“Is it so unbelievable? Yes, I fell, right there.”
“You didn’t give any sign.”
“I was rather preoccupied at the time, if you remember,” Euan replied. “At the time, I was expecting to be on the run for murder rather imminently. Developing a romantic attachment to an unattainable, wealthy young lady was something of an inconvenience.”
“And now?”
Euan let out a sigh and leaned back till his head touched the glass of the window behind him. “I didn’t expect to see her ever again. I’d convinced myself it was a boy’s foolishness and put it from my mind. She was the last person I expected to come across when I went to see you the other day.”
“And now you learn she’s married,” David mused.
Euan’s jaw tightened. “To a brute who mistreats her.”
David sighed. “We don’t know that for sure.”
“I do.”
“Just because we saw some bruises—”
“I asked her outright,” Euan interrupted. “When you were seeing to your other guests.”
“You asked her?” David couldn’t disguise his incredulity. “What did you say?”
“I said, ‘Did your husband put those bruises on the back of your neck?’” He paused. “She looked petrified and said he didn’t mean to, and I said it didn’t look like that. And then I started telling her about Mr. and Mrs. Gilmour—that was when you came back.”
He should’ve known that Euan wouldn’t leave his suspicions unspoken.
“I followed her home after,” Euan continued. “That’s why I left you in such a hurry. I didn’t want to lose her trail.”
“You what?”
“I followed her,” Euan repeated, defiant. “I was worried for her, so I followed her, and I’ve seen them together, and he’s just what you’d think, Davy. Cold and forbidding—she fears him. You can see it, just in the little ways they are together. I saw him criticising and berating her as they walked out their house and got into a carriage together. It took him less than a minute to have her quaking.”
“You should not be following her!”
“She needs help.”
“You are a...a known radical.” David paused before adding, “If the authorities see you following a peer’s wife around, they will think you plan some—some political scheme. They will arrest you.”
Euan reared back in surprise at that. “The authorities? What do mean, the authorities?”
David turned his attention to pouring himself more whisky, unable to look Euan in the eye when he couldn’t admit what he knew. “I’ve heard it said there are government men up from London tailing known troublemakers. I’m quite sure you fall into that category.”
“It seems like a lot of bother to go to over someone like me. I’ve no convictions—”
“Your brother was convicted of treason, and you write for a radical paper that has expressed republican views. The King is here. Peel himself and many of his men too. Peel will take no chance over the King’s safety, you can be sure, or his own. You should be prudent.”
Euan huffed out a frustrated sigh. “You’re right, I know. It’s just—it’s difficult for me to believe that Peel’s men would think me worth watching when I know how little my efforts achieve. The more I want to see the world change, the more it seems to stay the same.”
“The very fact that the government wants to close down Flint’s should tell you that you’re having more of an effect than you may think.”
Euan thought about that, then nodded. “All right. I’ll be extra careful around Lady Kinnell.”
David sighed. “That’s not what I mean, and you know it. You should stop following her altogether.”
“I can’t. I need to find a way of telling her that I’m willing to help her.”
“Help how?”
“Any way she needs, preferably by getting her away from her husband. The trouble is, she’s hardly ever alone. He keeps her chaperoned all the time. She’s like a pris
oner.”
David remembered the footman who’d come to his door. He hadn’t liked the look of him.
Had Chalmers been subjected to that too? Visits from his daughter with her stony-faced guard in tow? Elizabeth had always been so bright and merry. It was awful to see her downtrodden like this. And yet—did they know what she herself thought of her situation? “How can you be sure she wants to escape her husband?” David asked.
“I can’t,” Euan said shortly. “She’s had no chance to express a view. But I’ve eyes in my head. I see she’s unhappy.”
David thought of his Aunt Mamie back in Midlauder, the one who came knocking at his mother’s door on Saturday nights looking for a safe haven from her drunk husband, then insisted on going back to him each Sunday morning. “And what if you’re wrong?” he said. “What if she wants to stay with Kinnell and you’re caught hanging around trying to speak to her? You could make him angry with her. It could make things worse for her.”
“You think I haven’t thought of that?” Euan exclaimed. “Of course I have! But I’ve also wondered if she’s trapped with him, desperate to leave. Desperate to leave and unable to tell anyone.”
David flinched at the thought of gentle Elizabeth being terrorised. He thought of the smiling, confiding girl he’d first met, and how sad and reserved she seemed now. “All I’m saying is that we would have to be certain. She is his wife. He has rights over her we can do nothing about. We could inadvertently cause her more harm if we are too hasty. We need to find out what Elizabeth thinks before we do anything else.”
Euan gave a frustrated sigh. “This is not how marriage should be, with man exercising dominion over woman, like a master over a slave. It’s obscene.”
“I agree, but it is how things are. We must be practical.”
“Be practical,” Euan spat. Then he sighed and passed a hand over his face. “I realise I have to be careful. But I hate being told to be practical. It’s what people always say when they mean you must put up with injustice and oppression.”
Beguiled Page 11
