David’s heart sank. She was speaking about him, he realised.
“I have no intention of taking a wife, Miss Chalmers.”
“I’m so sorr—”
“Please don’t apologise,” she interrupted. “It was dramatic and self-indulgent of me to throw myself away like that. Plenty of people warned me against marrying so hastily.” She gave another bitter laugh at that. “But I wouldn’t listen.”
David’s gut clenched. Even now, he had no real idea what Kinnell was capable of, but Elizabeth’s grim expression was telling him more than he wanted to know. And after this dance, David would have to deliver her back to the man. It was a thought that made his stomach churn with impotent anger.
“Do you remember my friend, Mr. MacLennan?” he asked now. “You met him the other day—”
“Yes, of course. He asked me if Alasdair had hurt me. I couldn’t believe his nerve.” She laughed, but it was a low, desperate noise.
“Euan is an unusual man.”
“And a radical,” she said bluntly.
“Yes,” David agreed gently. “He is a radical. He believes in equality, between the classes, and between men and women, amongst other things.”
“He told me that. He said—he said I should run away from Alasdair.”
David saw her pale throat bob as she swallowed.
“Do you want to?”
Her eyes flickered from side to side, fearful. “He will never let me go.”
“Do you want to leave?” David persisted.
“Yes!”
How could a mere whisper hold so much yearning? So much yearning and so little hope.
David tightened his hold on her hand. “Listen to me, then. Euan and I are both willing to help you. But your husband has rights over you. It would not be easily done.”
“I know.”
“So you would have to be willing to run away—far away—with nothing but the clothes you stand up in. To trust Euan to get you to London, where you can start a new life.” He paused. “You have to decide if your life with Kinnell is so bad as to be worth that kind of sacrifice.”
“It is,” she said, without hesitation. “But, my family... David, I don’t want to shame them!”
David shook his head. “Your father is already concerned about you, and—you must have realised this already—he is not well. I think it would comfort him to know you were away from Kinnell. I think he would make financial arrangements for you, if you asked him, or if I did so on your behalf.”
She looked suddenly afraid. Afraid to hope, perhaps.
“It would have to be soon,” she said. “We are due to leave for Galloway in just over a week’s time, and I do not want to go back there. I can’t go back there.” She shuddered as though at some unpleasant memory, and David’s stomach clenched again. He never wanted to learn what put that fear into her eyes.
“When are you alone?”
She sent him a despairing look. “Never. Alasdair is always there, or a servant. I am not allowed out without one of the footmen. When I came to your rooms with Catherine, it was the first time I’d been out without a servant in months, and that was only because, when I got to Catherine’s house, Donald told my footman, Fraser, to go to the kitchen while we had tea. Then Donald ordered the carriage to be brought round, and we left without him. It was Donald’s doing—he didn’t even think to fetch Fraser—but Alasdair turned Fraser off without a reference when we got back.” She paused. Swallowed again. “And I was punished.”
Her expression was haunted as she remembered whatever her punishment had been.
The music of the dance ended just then, and the dancers began to rearrange, some leaving the floor and others joining new sets.
“We should dance,” Elizabeth said. “If Alasdair comes in and we are strolling and talking, he will be angry.”
“Come on, then,” David said, turning around and leading her towards the nearest incomplete set. “We have another few minutes before you have to go back to him.”
“We are not going to be able to talk anymore,” she said, her voice breaking. “If I cannot even speak to you, how am I ever to get away from him?”
David squeezed her hand. “We will be able speak a little,” he said. “We will make a plan.”
The dance was a sedate one, with gentle passes and turns, light skipping and stately promenades. David questioned her about the rhythms of her household whenever they encountered one another in the dance. He asked her too about the events that she and Kinnell would be attending during the last week of the King’s visit.
Towards the end of the dance, on one of their passes, David felt Elizabeth stiffen. He followed her gaze and found Kinnell and Murdo standing together at the end of the dance floor, watching them.
“He’s back,” Elizabeth said despairingly.
David turned to her, as the dance demanded, and looked into her eyes. “Listen to me,” he said. “This is what we are going to do. You’re going to the theatre on Tuesday, aren’t you? You must be ready to leave then, that very night, in the clothes you are wearing. I will speak with your father about money for you. I will also speak to Euan about arrangements for getting you to London. Are you willing to travel with him to a safe place?”
The dance parted them. They turned away from each other to stroll down parallel lines of the set, coming to face one another once more at the end.
“If you trust Mr. MacLennan, I will trust him too,” she said.
Did he? Did he trust Euan MacLennan?
He thought of his history with Euan. Two years ago, Euan had held him at gunpoint and threatened to put a bullet in him. But he hadn’t done it—and his every action had been for his brother and his beliefs. There was no greed in Euan, no selfishness. He was passionate and idealistic. Impetuous and perhaps somewhat naïve, but a good man.
“A man will fight for hate for a long time, but he will fight for love to the death.”
“I would trust him with my life,” David said simply. He’d done it once before.
“Then I will trust him too,” she whispered as she curtsied to him, ending their dance. “And I will be ready on Tuesday, at the theatre. What time will it happen?”
David bowed to her, thinking quickly. “Half past nine,” he said. The play would be well underway by then. “Get away from Kinnell, however you can. And make your way to the front door. I will try to get a ticket so I can meet you inside, but even if I cannot, I will find you. I promise.”
“Half past nine,” she said. “Pray, do not fail me.”
Chapter Fourteen
“I hope it was worth it,” Murdo said under his breath as Kinnell escorted Elizabeth away, his hand at the small of her back. “I fear she may pay for this, later.”
David glanced quickly at the other man. “Why do you say that?”
“Did you notice how angry he was when he found her talking to us? I don’t think my attempt to take the blame cut the mustard with him somehow.”
“I thought he believed you,” David replied. “You were quite convincing.”
“Oh, I think he believed me, but he’ll be angry with her anyway. He doesn’t want her talking to anyone on her own, does he?”
David pondered that acute observation with a sick feeling. He had a feeling Murdo was right, and he didn’t want to think of what Elizabeth might be facing when she got home tonight.
“I shouldn’t have interfered,” Murdo said flatly. “It was impulsive. I didn’t think—”
“I’m glad you did,” David interrupted, adding after a pause, “though I’m still puzzled as to why you did it.”
Murdo frowned. “It was her face when she said she wanted to speak to you. She looked desperate.” He paused, then added softly, “I think she still loves you.”
“She doesn’t love me,” David protested. He meant to defend her, but somehow the words felt like a betrayal, and fresh guilt bloomed in him. Elizabeth had loved him once, even if she had every reason to hate him now. “She is unhappy,” h
e added. “She needed to speak to me about her father. And I had—things to tell her from him.”
“You are blind, David,” Murdo said, though he smiled faintly. “If you’d seen the expression on her face...”
“I did see it,” David retorted. “And she is not heart-sore over me, I assure you. Not anymore. Though she is heart-sore, and for good reason.”
“I hope she’s all right tonight,” Murdo said. “I would not wish Kinnell’s anger on a dog, never mind a gentle young woman.”
“She’s stronger than she looks,” David replied. He said it with more firmness than he felt, then forced himself to change the subject before he revealed more than he ought to. “Tell me, how much longer must we stay here before our departure would be commented upon? Have we put in enough of an appearance, do you think?”
Murdo raised his brows, surprised. “We’ve barely been here an hour and a half.”
David shrugged. “Isn’t that enough? I’ve danced, and I’ve paid my respects to the King. Do you want to stay?”
“Not particularly,” Murdo admitted, a small smile just touching his lips. “Do you want to leave right this minute?”
“Why not? I am not much of one for dancing, as you know.”
Murdo laughed at that, a warm chuckle that made David smile. “Would you care, perhaps, for a nip of brandy by a warm fire instead?” The look he gave David suggested that sitting by a warm fire was very far from what he really had in mind.
“That sounds very pleasant,” David agreed, grinning back.
They made their way downstairs, passing Townsend the runner again as they went. He observed their departure with the same bland watchfulness as before, and David felt oddly guilty as they passed him, as though the man knew precisely what they were up to.
Soon enough they were strolling through the little grotto of lights and emerging from the outer doors into a sea of people and noise.
The crowd was even denser and rowdier than before. A line of soldiers had been deployed to guard the entrance to the Assembly Rooms with raised bayonets. One of them stood aside to let David and Murdo pass through, then just as quickly took his post again.
“Let’s go,” Murdo muttered in David’s ear. “I don’t like this crowd.”
David nodded his agreement. “I’ll follow you.”
Murdo began to push his way through the tightly packed throng, and David plunged after him, staying as close as possible. They attracted a few curses, though thankfully nothing worse, as they fought the tide of people. Everyone seemed to be trying to get nearer to the entrance to the ball, possibly hoping to see the King when he emerged later.
After a quarter hour of jostling and squeezing, they were through the worst of it and striding down the hill to Murdo’s house.
“Need I ask if you enjoyed yourself?” Murdo asked, his tone very dry.
“Let’s just say I’m glad it’s over.”
Murdo chuckled. “I was surprised you came at all. You’re not generally one to do anything you don’t want to, even at the request of a king.”
“It was interesting,” David prevaricated, unable to disclose that he’d come to see Elizabeth and for no other reason. Well, perhaps for one other reason...
“Interesting, how?”
“The pageantry of it all. It might have been of dubious authenticity, but it was magnificently done, I have to admit.”
“Ah, we’re back to this, are we? Your disapproval of all the tartan flummery?”
“I’m not being disapproving. It’s just that my idea of Scotland is not the same as the one that’s being portrayed to the King, that’s all.”
“What is yours, then?”
“Mine?”
“Yes, yours. What is David Lauriston’s Scotland like?”
“Well—this is the Scotland I inhabit now, I suppose.” David gestured around them, at the elegant New Town with its clean lines and gas lamps and private gardens. “Rational. Modern. Just think—who lives in these houses?”
“I do, for one,” Murdo said, his white teeth gleaming as he flashed a grin at David.
“True, but most of them are occupied by merchants, lawyers, bankers. Professional men. Sir Walter might like to promote the fantasy of noble highland chiefs, but these are the men of the new Scotland. And they don’t look to aristocrats to guide them. They’re more interested in what Adam Smith and David Hume would have had to say.”
Murdo snorted. “It sounds to me like you’re swapping one kind of privilege for another. Does it really matter whether our kingmakers are aristocrats or philosophers or bankers?”
“Ah, but this is only the beginning,” David retorted. “One day we will have universal suffrage. And then, how things will change!”
Murdo merely shrugged. “We’ll see. I have always found that men are defined more by their desire to do each other down rather than to lift each other up, but time will tell.”
“You are a pessimist,” David accused, smiling. “I think we are better than that.”
“I’m not so sure,” Murdo replied. “And I’m not sure the general population want the changes you think they do.”
“Oh, they want them. That crowd in George Street might’ve started out cheering, but there was an angry undercurrent there. You felt it as well as I did.”
“There was something, yes. But haven’t crowds always been like that? It’s the mob. A mob is capable of things individuals are not.”
Murdo came to a halt, and David stopped beside him, only realising when he looked over the other man’s shoulder that they’d reached Murdo’s townhouse already.
“So. Here we are again,” David said. Despite the serious tone of their conversation, a smile tugged at his lips. He felt like there was laughter inside him, just waiting to escape. He knew, without the benefit of a looking glass, that he looked happy—he saw his elation reflected on Murdo’s face, in the curving smile that mirrored his own.
“Shall we go inside?” Murdo asked, one eyebrow raised.
David grinned, and then they were dashing up the steps together like boys, practically bowling over the footman who opened the glossy door.
Murdo briefly assumed a more sober expression in front of his servant, issuing a few brief orders as they handed off their outer garments—primarily that no one should intrude upon their privacy without being called for—and then they were mounting the stairs to Murdo’s chambers.
They maintained their composure right up to the door of Murdo’s sitting room, but the moment they stepped inside and the door closed behind them, they came together in a hard embrace, their mouths fusing in a deep, hot kiss.
“Ah, Christ but I need this—” Murdo gasped when they broke apart. He pressed his mouth to David’s throat, his hands working to strip away David’s cravat and expose the tender flesh beneath. The scrape of his roughened cheek and the sharp nip of his teeth made David hunch a shoulder in startled pleasure, a prickle of gooseflesh rising up the back of his neck.
David’s cock felt as hard as a hammer, his balls tight and aching. A twitchy desire for Murdo to touch his arse consumed him, shaming him even as he yearned. Over the last few nights, he’d fallen asleep reliving what it felt like to have Murdo’s mouth teasing the entrance to his body, the terrifying, wonderful feeling of Murdo’s fingers penetrating him.
Just the thought of that now, right at the moment that Murdo nipped his throat again, made David groan and circle his hips against Murdo’s, their clothed cocks brushing as he did so.
“What do you want?” David breathed against Murdo’s ear. “Tell me.”
Tell me you want to fuck me.
“I hardly know,” Murdo murmured against David’s skin. “Everything. You. I can’t get enough of you.”
David shifted, frustrated, unwilling to ask for what he wanted even as he craved it.
Murdo raised his head, perhaps sensing David’s turmoil. He looked down at David with an unreadable expression for what felt like the longest moment, and David stared back, try
ing to interpret his look, willing him to speak.
At last Murdo said, startling him, “Is it that you want to fuck me? We’ve never spoken about that possibility, have we? I admit, I’ve avoided the subject.”
David just stared at him, astonished into silence. In truth, he’d never considered that possibility, and now he found himself wondering why.
“I don’t know,” he said at last, adding after a pause, “Why? Would you let me?”
Murdo was silent for a long moment. “I’d be willing to try.” His voice was calm, but a muscle leapt in his cheek, a betraying tic. “The truth is, I’ve not allowed anyone to do that to me for a long time. Not since that first time I told you about. The thought of letting anyone—” He gave an awkward laugh in lieu of finishing the sentence, then added, “But I’d try—for you.”
David felt the oddest easing inside his chest, a ligature being loosened, a constriction he hadn’t even known was there, giving way. He raised a hand and stroked the cheek where that tic had leapt.
“I don’t think we should do that tonight,” he said. “The truth is, I wouldn’t have the first idea what to do. We should do it the other way first, I think.”
“The other way?”
“You fucking me. At least you know what to do.” David tried to look nonchalant, but he knew that the heat he felt creeping into his cheeks had to be turning his pale skin scarlet.
Murdo was silent for a long moment. “You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t want you to feel pushed into it.”
“I don’t. I want it. I want you.”
Murdo’s dark gaze searched his own, as though checking for uncertainty. “All right. I’ll do everything I can to make it good.”
“I know.”
I know you’ll try.
“Come on, then. If we’re doing this, we’re doing it properly, in my bed.”
Murdo took David’s hand and towed him into the bedchamber, leaving him stranded in the middle of the room for a moment while he lit a branch of candles off the fire. After placing the candles on the mantelpiece, he turned his attention to the big bed, stripping the silken bedcovers entirely away to reveal the bone-white linen sheets below, a stark field for their play. Then he returned to face David and pulled him into another deep kiss.
Beguiled Page 14
