Enlightened by Joanna Chambers Page A

here. Murdo might ignore his servants, but David hadn’t missed their silent, careful interest. They would be speaking about him below stairs now, he was quite sure. The man who had been brought here, injured, months before. The man whose bedside the master had barely left for weeks, and who’d then gone with the master to his new estate in Perthshire.
    “They must be wondering about me,” David murmured, turning to meet Murdo’s frowning gaze. “Your servants, I mean.”
    “Quite apart from the fact that it’s none of their business, they know who you are. You were here before, after all.”
    “That was different. I was injured. I needed help. Now I’m perfectly able to manage on my own.” David paused before adding, “Perhaps I shouldn’t stay on when you go to London tomorrow. I could easily take a room at an inn instead.”
    “For God’s sake!” Murdo exclaimed. He stared at David, all impatience and disbelief, then sighed. “You’re in one of your moods, I see. Imagining all sorts of nonsense.” He pinched the bridge of his nose before continuing more calmly. “It’s perfectly commonplace for gentlemen to put their friends up in their homes, David. Sometimes for months at a time.”
    David pressed his lips together, resenting the implication that he was being absurd. “That may be the case for men who’re social equals, but we’re not equals.”
    Murdo sent him another incredulous look, black eyebrows raised. “Are you of all people suggesting you’re my inferior?”
    “Of course not,” David replied, irritated now. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t see how other people view us. I don’t want you to be exposed to rumour—not any more than I want to be exposed to it. Our friendship is not without risk, Murdo, you know that. We have to take reasonable precautions not to draw suspicion.”
    Murdo stared at him for a long moment. “I honestly don’t understand where this has come from,” he said. “What’s prompted all these worries? You gave no hint of any of these concerns in the carriage on the way here.”
    David sighed and turned to look out of the window again. Already the sky had darkened further. Soon it would be fully night.
    “It’s just—coming here, back to Edinburgh, seeing the servants’ reaction to me arriving with you—”
    “What reaction?” Murdo asked, sounding genuinely bewildered.
    “Just because you didn’t notice it, doesn’t mean there wasn’t one,” David said wearily.
    Murdo was silent for a moment; then he said, “It’s not just that, though, is it?” He stepped closer and laid his hand on David’s shoulder, and the comfort of that touch was both reassuring and unbearable, promising far too much, making David want things he couldn’t have.
    “No,” David admitted, staring out at the darkening sky. “It isn’t just that. It’s leaving Laverock House— I’ve been so happy there, and now it’s coming to an end, and—”
    “David—”
    “—and as much as I wish I didn’t have to go back to my old life, I do have to.”
    Silence.
    Finally, David turned round again, and he saw that Murdo’s eyes held sadness. They glimmered, ink black in the candlelight, till he veiled the emotion in them with a down sweep of his thick lashes.
    “It needn’t be over,” Murdo murmured. “ I don’t want it to be—you must know how much I care for you…” His lashes lifted, and David met that dark—now beloved—gaze again. Did he know how much Murdo cared for him?
    This thing between them was more than friendship, more than desire too. More than he could bring himself to speak aloud. Speaking it would give it a name, and once it had a name, he was lost. The black descent was going to be bad enough without that.
    David closed his eyes against the burning emotion in Murdo’s gaze. When he opened them again, he had himself a little more under control.
    “I’m going out,” he said. “I want to find out from Donald how things stand before I go up